


"Boats" by Kilgon

by Sirifall



Category: Original Work
Genre: (mostly just descriptions of stabbings), Anxiety Attacks, Body Horror, Compulsion, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hallucinations, M/M, Manipulation, Mild Gore, Multi, Mutual Pining, Overprotective, Paranoia, megalophobia (fear of large objects)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 43,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28114803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sirifall/pseuds/Sirifall
Summary: A.K.A. "Catfish"Nami and Cranberi get lost in the woods.This is written for my dnd group but yall can read it I guess.
Relationships: Barnaby Calzone/Freedon Gordman, Nami Precip (Original Character) & Cranberi Lightner (Original Character)
Kudos: 9
Collections: Reincarnation





	1. Catfish

**Author's Note:**

> Quick descriptions for anyone who doesn't already know these characters!  
> Nami is a triton (sort of like fish people) with pink hair and a trident, Cranberi is a tabaxi (sort of like cat people) with brown fur and a sickle. Barnaby is a halfling, Freedon a half-elf, Kilgon is an elf, Joemin is half-orc, and Kisia is a minotaur.  
> Linan, their boss, frequently teleports everyone to missions around the world to collect materials for her. This time the teleporting doesn't go quite as planned. Written mainly for my friend Renee.

Summer is dark and humid. Nami and Cranberi, recently separated from their party through a botched teleportation sigil, are resting somewhere along the long trek from the top of the continent to the very bottom, where Linan’s tower and their hopefully-safe friends wait. After everything that’s happened in the last few weeks, months… the stress of the group’s separation is wearing on the both of them. Though they’d only become close relatively recently, the absence of Barnaby’s worn voice as he translates Freedon’s signs, the lack of footsteps around their camp from Joemin’s wandering, Kisia’s occasional pacing, and Kilgon’s off-and-on guarding makes the forest seem so much more quiet than it should be.

The depths of the Rebakis Empire are dense, but not unkind. There’s plenty of game here for the two to hunt and fish for, and the few crickets and animal sounds lighten the silence for minutes at a time. The crackling of their small campfire is a comfort. It’s peaceful, but somehow also nerve-wracking. Nami sees Cran’s ears flick with every rustle of underbrush, and every call from the owl nest a short walk away makes the fur at the back of her neck stand.

They’re friends, she thinks. No matter how tetchy Cranberi gets on missions and how much she scolds the rest of them when she thinks they’re doing something stupid, the other girl has some very obvious soft spots. Whisper is one. Eliah, another. Her mysterious little sister Coco.

Nami’s not really sure how she managed to get such a spot, but she doesn’t let it go to waste.

So they’re friends. Friends that know barely anything about each other, but friends. And friends don’t let each other get too caught up in their own heads.

“Hey, Cranberi?”

Her ears flick, eyes trained on the dark of the forest. “Hm?”

“You’re from Felu, right? Can you tell me what it’s like?”

“… Hm.” The corner of her mouth pulls in thought. “Small, I’d say. I don’t really think about it much anymore.”

“Small?” Her brows crinkle, and she reaches for the tinderbox in her bag just to have something for her hands to play with. “Why?”

“Well. I mean, it’s a pretty small country, right?” She turns away from the dark, finally. “Maybe even smaller than Kath, in terms of, y’know, square mileage. Besides, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen nearly every part of it with all the running around I did after school.”

She frowns. “It’s your home, though! There’s gotta be something good to say about it, right?”

“There’s plenty of good things! I think. That’s just the first thing that came to mind!”

“Wh- you think?”

Cran frowns back at her. “What about _you_ , huh? What’s your home like?”

“I asked first!”

“I asked second.”

Nami sticks her tongue out at her. Cran laughs, just a bit. “… I don’t think you’ve ever said what country you’re from, now that I think about it,” she muses. “Just that you ran away.”

Ah. She did say that, didn’t she. It sounds different in Cranberi’s voice – Nami always thinks of it like a grand escape, like the mad dash for freedom that it was, but Cran says it almost like an accusation. Not enough to make Nami genuinely offended, but enough to make her hold a flinch.

It’s fine. They’re both stressed, and the other woman’s never had a _great_ handle on how she says things. It’s fine.

“Yup,” she says cheerfully, trying to balance out the tenseness in her shoulders. “And I’m not going back, either.”

Cranberi huffs with a smile. “As if I’d want you to.”

There it is. They’re definitely friends, Nami thinks, nodding to herself. Cranberi’s just still in mission mode; worrying over everything that much has to wear on a person. At least it’s only the two of them right now. Less people to fret over.

“… I’m from Sojolo,” she says eventually. “It’s a pretty place. Plenty of fishing, tons of really nice people. I just didn’t like it there.”

“Your folks?”

“Yeah.”

A hum. Cranberi’s staring at her a little. She does that sometimes when she’s thinking of something. “… Well, when this whole thing with Linan is over, you’re welcome to come with me.”

Nami blinks. “Really?”

“Mhm. Once I figure out where my sister ran off to, I was either going to stay near her or go back to Felu. It’s not too much effort to get an extra room for you.” She frowns. “If you want it, anyway.”

“That sounds amazing.” It sounds a little too good to be true, honestly. And ‘after everything with Linan’… she can’t help but wonder what state they’d be in once their contract was up. Would they all still be a team, be friends? Would the same offer be extended to the others, if they were here? She doesn’t know. “Thank you so much.”

Something shrieks.

They’re both on their feet in an instant. Cranberi’s fingers stumble on the belt holding her sickle, but she pulls it just as Nami spots the lights in the dark, trident held at the ready.

The moment she sets eyes on them, the air grows heavy. She feels pure _fear_ clawing at her, straining her muscles, but she clenches her jaw and stands her ground. Some sort of terror spell, she thinks, and pushes it back. She hears Cranberi hiss into the dark, back arched but still standing firm.

The things that approach are _monsters_.

There are two of them. Skeletal, pitch-black bodies standing out even in the shadows. Two sets of circular eyes shine with an unholy light as they scan the meager camp and take in the two combatants. Joints click and crunch when they move, fingers with too many bones end in claws so large and cruel-looking that they could’ve belonged to a bear. Tall, taller than Cran, with feet that look more like knives.

And the heads. Elongated daggers of black – no jaw, no opening, and no end in sight. It only seems to meld into shadow rather than end.

They’re terrifying. Monsters. Abominations.

One of them howls and charges right at her.

**_[19 – 6 – 6 - 4]_ **

Nami strikes.

**_[12]_ **

A gesture with her trident sends three familiar wisps of water careening towards the closest monster, and she may not need to bother aiming with Magic Missile but this time she makes _absolutely sure_ it hits. The creature takes one missile to the head, two to its dark, bone-like ribcage, and shrieks in anger.

**_[20]_ **

**_[9]_ **

A flare goes up around the other creature, Cranberi firing off a Sacred Flame that completely enshrouds the thing in seconds and dies off just as quick. As the light goes down, its form seems to flake at the edges, but it flexes its claws and slashes just the same, screaming in rage.

She jumps back just in time, the claws barely catching on her leather armor.

Nami can’t focus on that right now, though, because the thing in front of her has shaken off her missiles and takes a jab at her.

She dodges, letting its boney form sail past her, and turns.

…

…

**_[22]_ **

Something about them makes her skin crawl. For some reason, she is suddenly, _ferociously_ angry. How dare these things break the peace they’ve spent so long trying to be comfortable in. How _dare_ they attack when it’s just her and Cranberi against the world, without Kisia’s axe and Joemin’s bow and- and- while _everyone else_ is gone. Fuck this. She’s livid, and she’s going to make this thing _hurt_.

It’s still close, but it must have miscalculated how forcefully it had to spring at her. It’s back is bent, in the middle of regaining balance – but she’s not going to let that happen. Nami stabs the tip of her trident into the joints of its neck with so much force that it trips and falls to the ground. There, with its unnatural, hateful head crammed into the dirt by her weapon, she _twists_.

The thing.

**_[-4] [-2]_ **

_Explodes_.

Darkness catches at her skin and she flinches back with a shout of pain that’s echoed by Cranberi a few feet away, one hand cupping the worst of it on her shoulder. There’s no blood when she uncovers the wound, but the skin there has turned dark with pulsing shadow.

**_[18]_ **

**_[4]_ **

Nami turns to see Cranberi flail out with her sickle, cutting into one of the remaining monster’s horrible claws. She can see the particles it drops turn to the same dust the other beast exploded into, the dust she hadn’t been paying attention to until now.

Cran dodges another strike, clearly favoring her left leg. Nami can see the same shadows on her shoulder have torn into her friend and shouts “Get back!”

Cranberi listens.

**_[8]_ **

With one more magic missile, the other monster explodes with the two women just out of range.

Silence.

The noises of fighting have startled away the life in this part of the forest. The only thing left is the crackling of the campfire and their own heavy breathing.

Nami sighs, feeling her earlier rage leave her. “What _were_ those things?”

“Fuck if I know.” Cranberi looks at her, then looks at the mass of shadow pulsing under the skin of her shoulder and limps over, one hand already raised to heal it. “We need to find a town. I don’t want to find out if there are any more out here.”

**_[+5]_ **

The force of Cranberi’s goddess burns away the dark and Nami sighs again in relief. Her heart is still hammering; it always takes a while to calm down after fights, and Cranberi still looking so on edge isn’t helping that much. She knows she’s right, though – it looked like, whatever those things were, they’re used to hunting in groups. If there ends up being a bigger group out here…

Best not to think about it.

She nods her agreement. Cranberi goes to pack up what isn’t already put away, grabbing one of her torches and holding it to the campfire for light before she kicks it out. Nami packs up too, keeping her trident in arms’ reach until she notices something.

Cranberi hasn’t healed herself.

“Uh. Cranberi?”

“Yeah?”

She frowns down at the other woman’s injured leg. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

Cran shrugs, continuing to pack. “I’ll keep pace with you. I can just get it looked at in town.”

“You should probably just heal it.”

“And waste a spell slot?”

“What if it spreads or something! Or, like, drives you crazy or kills your leg?”

“It won’t.”

She glares. “How do you know? Please just heal it.”

“Nami.”

“Cranberi.”

They stare at each other.

Finally, Cran sighs. “… Fine.”

“Thank you!” Nami says, brightening immediately.

“Yeah, yeah.”

It is very nice, being one of the few soft spots.

**_[+4]_ **

With her leg healed, the two finish gathering their things. Nami takes the lit torch when it’s offered to her – Cran’s a Tabaxi, she can see without it just fine – and they set off as quietly as they can through the underbrush.

It’s slow going. They don’t dare talk now that they know there are things more threatening than owls lurking in the dark. Nami’s tread makes much more noise than she’d like, and the crackling of the torch is constant.

Eventually they get far enough from the campsite for the natural sounds of the forest to start up again, only quieting when they pass by.

She’s a bit sad they can’t just pretend to be on one of those nightly wanderings Joemin likes so much. They’re both too on edge now; she’s been running her thumb along the grip of her trident for a while, and she doubts Cran’s much better.

Nami looks around in a full circle. Nothing.

The worst part about needing light to see is that whatever’s in the dark can usually see you first.

It’s startling, way too startling, when Cranberi starts mumbling. Nami nearly drops the torch and starts a forest fire, which is the absolute last thing they need right now, before her attention whips to Cran in irritation.

And then relaxes, recognizing the familiar pace of her words. She can’t hear it much past the crackling of the fire – which means it won’t alert anything that’s not already alerted by the light – but it’s definitely praying. Uncommon, but not too odd. Cranberi is a lot of things, but she’s not sure ‘overly devout’ is one of them; she must be just as uncomfortable out in the open as Nami is.

The prayer ends. Cran’s ears twitch, listening for something. A sign, maybe. It feels like her goddess really pays attention to her for some reason – Circidan’s signs seem to pop up all over the place with Cranberi around. Nami knows gods are pretty fickle sometimes… but she also knows her friend’s trust is hard-won. If she thinks her goddess will lead them the right way, Nami will go along with it.

It’s better than just waiting for an ambush.

Another ear twitch. Nami lets her pace slow, making less noise so Cran can focus.

She almost doesn’t hear it at first. A faint buzz in the darkness – just the wildlife, some loud bug making noise as they’re known to do. But Cranberi seems to zero in on that noise, waving for Nami to follow her as she tracks it. It gets louder the further they go, so loud that they both feel comfortable walking a little faster, not putting as much effort into keeping their steps silent. Already, this little bit of noise they’re allowed to make is lifting her mood, and soon they find what they’re looking for.

The torch in Nami’s hand illuminates a cicada buzzing on a tree, about eye-level with Cranberi and seeming completely unconcerned with how visible it is. The membrane of its wings catches the light just right, making them flash gold.

Cranberi turns back to her, and they smile at each other before continuing in the direction they’d been led.

They find a break in the trees within minutes.

A town.

All Nami can see is the lamplight shining far above them, at the top of what looks like an extremely steep incline, but it’s enough to make her relax and hold up a hand for Cranberi to high-five. Cran casually takes her up on it before leading her to a twisting road in the dark. It’s not very wide, but shows lots of use. They follow it up.

Even now, they don’t make much noise until they’ve climbed into the town proper. She doesn’t take in much of her surroundings past seeing how many lights there are and dunking the now-spent torch in a nearby trough. It’s been a long day, and the last few hours have not helped at all.

She does notice that all the buildings here are built to be very… tall. Like they’re stacked on top of each other, or on stilts, getting the most possible use out of each bit of land. There’s plenty of noise here, too. Voices bounce and carry, not too loud but never soft. The two follow sounds of laughter to an Inn, and Cranberi finally puts her sickle away before entering.

They catch a few eyes coming in, which Nami ignores, but for the most part they pass the customers unnoticed and reach the bar, where an older human woman with fiery red hair is lounging, waiting for them to approach.

Nami takes stock and realizes something very quickly.

She’s way too tired for small talk and politeness.

Usually she loves it, which is why Cran tends to let her take the lead on charming the locals, but right now she can’t think of anything besides laying in a bed and passing out for the next eight hours. There’s no guilt in letting her friend carry them through to buying a room this time. Even if she is bad at it.

“Evening, ladies.”

“Evening.” Cranberi glances at Nami, checking, but she just waves her on. “How much for a room here, please?”

The woman quirks her eyebrow. “Sure, we got rooms. Three gold each. I’m gonna need some names, though.”

“Cranberi.”

“Nami.”

She smiles. “And I’m Loraline. A pleasure. You tourists?”

“Uh,” Cranberi smiles, shaky and unpracticed. She bares her teeth too much, makes it look like she’s snarling, but Loraline doesn’t flinch as the coins are handed over. “Not- not really, no?”

“That’s alright, hun, just means I’ve got first dibs on telling you about the services we got here. Here’s how it goes,” she says, leaning forward on the bar counter: “three gold for a room, plus one gold a day each for three meals, not including drinks. Those, you gotta pay asking price. We’ve got some real _special_ brews here, so trust me when I tell you it’s worth it. If you ladies had a hard walk here and need some relaxation, I got one of the town’s Sowers here, he can fix you up all nice and comfy.”

“… Sowers?”

“Mhm. My son Eskel’s gifted in those sorts of things.” She smiles. “Been a Sower for two years now. Doing some damn honorable work. It’s never too much trouble for him to see to some customers, long as they pay fair. You girls interested?”

“I- um, maybe another time.”

Loraline shrugs, going to fish under the bar for something. “Suit yourselves. You’ve got the last room on the right. Have a nice night,” she says, coming up with a room key and handing it to Cran before waving them off. Cranberi gives a quick ‘thank you’ before retreating.

Nami, who’s been holding herself back from booking it up the stairs the entire time, grabs her friend’s arm and leads them both to whatever relative quiet their room holds. Last door on the right. She decidedly does _not_ stumble on the stairs, thank you very much, but does nearly pass out waiting for Cranberi to jiggle the lock open.

The door is odd, she thinks as Cran unlocks it.

No, maybe not the door – the things on the door. Little strips of paper with glyphs she doesn’t recognize. She nudges one with a nail and lifts it with a hesitant finger when it doesn’t react. They’re not teleportation sigils, but that’s about all she can tell.

Would Cran’s goddess have led them to a trap? Maybe.

If there’s still a bed and relative silence inside, does she care? Not really.

When the door opens and Cranberi steps inside with no sign of a trap going off, that’s all the incentive she needs. Nami doesn’t even bother shutting the door behind her, feeling it can shut on its own (as most inn doors do) while she goes to set her bag down at the foot of the far bed. Her trident gets placed against the wall nearest to where she’ll be sleeping, and she hears the door creak closed just like she knew it would.

And suddenly there’s silence.

The conversation and laughter from the people downstairs disappear. Nami’s hand clenches on her trident – gods damn it, she was _just_ putting it down – and she turns to see what fresh hell they’ve found themselves in.

Cranberi looks just as startled. Her ears flick left and right, but there really is no noise to catch save for—

Is that…

Is that _water_?

Confused, Nami closes her eyes and listens.

It _is_ water. There’s something odd about it though… it takes her a good few seconds of listening to place, but soon enough it hits her – it’s the sound of waves. As in, something she could only ever hear on the coast.

She remembers how the waves crashing off the rocky outcrops of Sojolo sounded, how she let them soothe her more than once when she was little. These sound almost exactly the same, and Nami can’t help but slump a bit at the familiarity – back home, she would spend hours alone on those rocks just taking in the sea. This sound usually meant safety.

She opens her eyes and looks to make sure they aren’t _actually_ back in Sojolo. They’re not. Cranberi has her own eyes closed near the other bed, looking just as relaxed as she feels.

Nami slowly loosens her grip on her trident. “You hear that?”

“Mhm.” Cran looks over, pupils blown out a little. “Sounds like the woods back home. In Felu.”

“I hear the ocean. Like I’m back in Sojolo.”

Cranberi’s eyes narrow. She walks to the door, takes a breath, and opens it with her sickle held at the ready.

Immediately the sounds from before reappear, even louder after the silence of whatever spell they were under. Cran steps out, testing, then steps back into the room and closes the door behind her. They both watch the door in fascination when the sounds disappear once more, and Nami hears the ocean soothe her ears.

“That’s so cool!” She grins, going to the door herself. Open, close, open, close. Noise noise noise. On the last ‘open’ she points to the strips of paper she had seen earlier, and Cranberi’s eyes widen in realization. “We _have_ to bring some of these back for the others. They’ll love it!”

Cran grins. “They will. We’ll see if there’s a shop for them tomorrow.”

“Yes!” Whatever’s happening in this town, it’s _fascinating_. She can’t wait to see more. “Can we be tourists this time, pretty please? Just for a day!”

Cranberi takes a few seconds, but Nami can tell she’s only pretending to think on it. “Yeah, alright,” she says, and Nami cheers. “But only a day! I still want to get back before the others are sent out again.”

“Deal!”

She practically floats back to bed, placing her trident against the wall once more and falling into the mattress. It’s so unbelievably comfy. The pillows are cool, the covers are warm, and she can feel her very blood swaying with the nonexistent waves. Gods, if there’s anything she missed about being home, it would be this – the waves pushing and pulling far under her feet, the water climbing and falling from the rocks, away from all the people that want her to stay still, stay proper, stay present. Completely at peace.

Just before she falls asleep, she hears the soft rumble of purring from the other bed.

\---

Waking up is… less pleasant.

Nami hears the waves in her ears and feels weak sunlight on her face and thinks _oh gods, I’m late again_. She stumbles upright out of bed, wrenching her eyes open to scan the rocks around her – how long was she asleep, is anyone looking for her nearby, what time is it – only to be surprised when she sees a completely average inn room.

Oh.

Right.

“Hey.”

She relaxes a bit when she sees Cranberi. She’s reading one of Eliah’s books, though Nami knows Cran must be able to recite that one by heart now. It’s all she’s been able to read on the road. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Best sleep in fucking ages,” Cran admits freely. “Those spells are really something.”

“No kidding.”

“Hope you don’t mind I let you sleep in a bit,” she says, closing the book. “It seemed like you needed it.”

Nami nods. “I really did. Thank you.”

“You still up for some tourist stuff?”

“ _Absolutely_.” There’s no way she’s passing by this town without getting a better look. It doesn’t escape her notice that the Inn’s owner didn’t even mention the spells on the door – like they weren’t even worth mentioning. If those don’t get much attention, she can’t help but wonder what _does_. “We need to find some of those door charms for the others. They’ll freak.”

Cranberi smiles and stands to stretch. “Do you think if we get a few extra for Linan, she’ll be able to make some?”

“Oh, and we could get some for the therapy office! I’m sure that would be useful.”

“Fuck, we might as well just buy them for the entire tower.”

Nami bounces in place. “Do you think they’ll let us?”

“Might as well try.” Cranberi glances at her. “Just remember we have to get all the way back, still. We can’t overload ourselves. Or spend too much.”

“We’ll be careful!” Nami agrees. “Besides, Linan always gives us so much for missions. We still have plenty.”

Cran makes a noise of general irritation and opens the door. Immediately, the sounds of the ocean are drowned out by the bustle of the town outside – it sounds even busier than it did last night. Nami’s _very_ excited to see why. “I really wish she’d be more careful about that. Fleau can’t catch everything, they’re fifteen!”

She just shrugs. They’re both more than aware of how touchy Fleau is about their age – but also, they _are_ fifteen. Nami doesn’t care nearly as much as Cranberi seems to, though. “Linan’s rich. I don’t think she cares that much.”

“Point. Fair point.” She shakes her head. “I just don’t get it, is all. She’s financing her dream, yeah, but like- how much money does she have, really? If she’s putting thousands of coins into our missions wouldn’t she run out of money eventually?”

“Doesn’t she have, I don’t know, patents? Stuff like that?” Nami points out. “She _is_ an artificer. Besides, I don’t think she’s doing much else with it.”

“Ugh, I just hate thinking about it. Stressful.”

Nami rolls her eyes. “Then stop! We are going to have fun today, you can think about it tomorrow.”

She laughs. “That an order, captain?”

“If it needs to be,” she sniffs and leads the way downstairs. Her pack feels so much lighter after such a long sleep, and when she sees Loraline wiping off tables on the ground floor she smiles. “Good morning!”

The woman looks over, and oh, it looks like Nami doesn’t even _need_ to charm her. She’s so nice already. “Morning, ladies. Sleep well, I’m guessing?”

“Yes, your rooms are so comfy!” She says first - just because she doesn’t need the extra charm doesn’t mean it’s wasted. “And those sound spells? They were so cool! We’ve never seen anything like that.”

Loraline smiles, showing off some very cute dimples. Are all the people in this town so nice? She hopes so. “Thought you’d appreciate those. Made in-house by my Eskel.”

“Your son made those?” Cranberi asks.

“That’s _amazing_ ,” Nami adds. “We’d love to buy some for our friends, if there are any for sale?”

“Ah, you’d best talk to him about that,” she says, nodding to them. “Materials might be cheap this time of year, but he puts a good deal of effort into ‘em. Songweaving is a sacred art in these parts, you know.”

“Songweaving?” They both echo, and Nami continues, “is that what- uh, what was the word… Sowers? Is that what they do?”

Loraline hums. “You two really aren’t from around here, huh? Sowers – well, they’re our own _special_ brand of magic-users. Bards, sorcerers, the like, they carry out an important duty here. Keep the place calm, keep the town happy and safe. Magic plays a good role in it.”

“Wait,” Cran says, “are you saying the whole town is under some spell?”

“Oh, no no. Cranberi, wasn’t it?” She laughs, “no darling, that’s not it at all. Levrui’s a peaceful town ‘cause we _choose_ to be peaceful. It’s… hm. It’s a bit difficult to explain to outsiders, you understand. Maybe it’s best if you take the tour yourselves rather than trust an old woman like me.”

Nami bounces. “You have a tour?”

“Sure we do! How else can we show off all the good work we do here?” Loraline gestures to the front door. “You ladies hang a right out there, and you follow that road ‘til you get to the last building on this end. Folks there will tell you what the process is better than I can.”

“Thank you so much!”

“Not at all, not at all. I’ll see if I can catch my boy when he passes this way for lunch, send him your way.”

“That’s very kind of you.” She grins. Not only a new kind of magic, but a _mystery_ town! They’ve really lucked out with this one. “We’ll head that way now. Thank you, again!”

“Take care!”

The town outside really is bustling, and Nami barely waits for the door to close behind them before she’s grabbing Cranberi’s arm in excitement. “A tour! _And_ we can talk to the person that made those spells! This place is so cool!”

Cran huffs a laugh. “You’re really into this, huh?”

“Are you kidding? I—”

_CLANG_

Nami startles hard enough to almost lose her grip on her bag, and Cranberi’s hackles raise within the second. Both their heads whip to a cart that had been passing by, seeing that they dropped a… diving suit?

Nami straightens, examining it. No, it’s not a diving suit, though the fishbowl head and air tube makes it look an awful lot like one; it’s more like… armor? Armor. Metal plates protect the front and back upper body in layers, and it seems to come with two enormous and heavy-looking gauntlets that had also fallen in a heap. Two passersby are already picking up the equipment, looking a little frantic as they check it for damage.

The gauntlets clang together as they’re carefully loaded back onto the wagon with a loud thanks from the Ferrier, and Nami hears… something.

It’s not the sound of metal. Or, well, it’s not _just_ metal. It sounds more like an instrument, but no instrument she’s ever heard could resonate like that. When those gauntlets brush each other, it’s like a wind chime goes off in her head – she’s heard music that made her heart thrum and her feet move, but never anything to make her want to create.

She shares a wide-eyed glance with Cranberi and begins following the cart.

Turns out, they’re heading in the same direction. The cart slows to a stop at the very end of the road after ten minutes or so of walking – Nami’s a bit confused as to why the road would end here when she can clearly see more buildings start up a short way’s away. Surely the steep incline the town’s been built on isn’t that bad… but then they get a little closer.

She hears Cran stop a few feet behind her. Nami can’t help but keep walking, craning her head to see where the land abruptly ends.

It’s a harsh fall into an open ravine. Sturdy wooden bridges decorated with long strips of paper span the gap, connecting two halves of town, and in the distance - past the ravine and the looming buildings they hadn’t even seen last night - Nami can just make out an old stone tower.

She’s breathless. There are only a dozen or so meters from the last buildings to the edge of the cliff, and when she looks between the two the sight feels more like a painting than reality. Getting closer, looking down, she sees countless bridges and stairways leading down into the dark, eventually ending at what looks like the entrance of a mine. Blue braids of fabric tie the paper strips to the wood, and there’s a lantern hung on every other post like they’re escorting people down.

Some yelling tears her attention back to the cart they’d followed here. A few people in light, tan clothing are unloading the armor from before – a few sets of it, in fact. It clinks and clangs together, acting like a bell, making her fins perk and twitch. She sees Cranberi’s tail flicking from side to side in the corner of her eye and hopes she’s just as curious, because there’s no way they can leave without figuring out what’s going on here.

She’s about to approach, to ask what they’re doing, but Cran touches her shoulder before she can get far.

“C’mon,” she says, and nods to the last building before the dropoff. “Loraline said they had tours, yeah? Let’s let them work for now.”

Ugh. But she has a point – these people seem just as careful with the armor as the people from before. She’d feel really guilty if they ended up not doing their jobs because they were talking to her. “Aw… okay.”

They give the workers a fairly wide berth. It doesn’t stop them from catching some attention – from what she’s seen, most of the people here don’t carry weapons. She waves gleefully to the few people that look over, trident bouncing against her shoulder as she walks. Some of them even wave back! This really is a nice town.

The building they arrive at looks like every other building here – looming, looking like it’s been stacked like blocks – but in the window there’s a small blue and white sign: DOE’S TOURS. They glance at each other, shrug, and enter.

A bell above the door chimes. It gives Nami the same feeling the armor did.

The place is wide open and made almost completely with dark, polished wood. Display cases are set into the walls, locked with simple latches as if no one in this town had ever even heard of the concept of stealing. More of those paper strips hang on blue braids from the ceiling beams, and they twist and turn when the door shuts, bell chiming again as it slides by. There are a few open shelves near the back lined with what she hopes are knick-knacks and gifts for sale. Even further back is a staircase and, just underneath, an archway leading to some back rooms.

A voice shouts over from that direction: “Be a minute!”

“No rush!” Nami shouts back and flails her hands at Cran in excitement. Her friend just laughs quietly and follows her to the nearest display case. It’s quiet in this room – the town is still audible outside, but it feels peaceful here. She doesn’t want to talk too loud and completely ruin it. “This place is so cute…”

“I wonder what the papers do,” Cranberi says, glancing up to them. “If they’re really spells like I think, there’s a fuck ton of them. How many do they make in a few weeks? Do they need to keep replacing them?”

“The Sowers are probably the ones that do that, right? I wonder how many of them there are.” She looks into the display case. There’s a pair of those gauntlets in there, engraved in branching waves that look like a cross between flames and mapped ocean currents. There’s a single gauntlet resting under them, worn with use and cracked right up the arm. Whatever work it was involved in, it’s been stained pitch black in patches, and the metal is flecked with green. “Everything about this town is so strange.”

“Seriously.”

Cranberi goes to look at the next display. This one has a large jar in it, the sides plastered in yet more paper. The writing on it seems a little different from the papers hanging above their heads, but it’s still obviously the same sort of glyphs. Other than the decoration, it’s completely empty… it feels like there should be something there that isn’t. Nami tilts her head at it and reads the plaque below.

_Seed Jar  
Once filled with the Empathy of Jill Wainne, author of ‘Wild Things’  
in memory of her father_

“Empathy?”

“Hm.” Cran’s nose twitches. “Not sure that’s something that _should_ be getting extracted. Maybe it’s code for something else.”

The creak of footsteps on wood sounds before Nami can respond. They look over to see an orc man ducking through the open archway in the back, clad in the same light clothing as the people outside had been. He smiles – he’s missing one of his bottom tusks – and approaches. “There, now. What can I help y’all with?”

“Hi there!” She waves, “we were told you give tours here?”

“Indeed we do, Miss…?”

“Oh!” She holds her hand out, and he shakes it carefully. It really hits her, now, that Joemin is only half-orc – this man’s hand is about the length of her forearm. “Nami, sir.”

He nods and holds the same hand out for Cran to shake. She does. “Cranberi.”

“Nice to meet you, Nami, Cranberi. Name’s Buck.”

“Nice to meet you, Buck!” Nami looks around the shop. “This place is so nice! How long have you worked here?”

He straightens. “Been workin’ here for near fifteen years, now. It’s my wife’s shop, y’know! We switch out on mannin’ the front – soon enough the kids’ll be doin’ the same.”

She gasps in delight. “That’s so sweet! How many kids do you have?”

“Three,” he says, rubbing at his neck. “Fauna and Felix are twins, and the younger’s Cirrus. Peas in a damn pod, they are.”

Twins. Fraternal twins, it sounds like. And with a younger sibling. “They sound so cute! How old are they?”

“Eighteen and ten. They’re all in schoolin’ right now, but if you stick around maybe you’ll meet ‘em. Felix is lookin’ to be the best Sower in town, and Cirrus ain’t too far behind.”

“That’s really cool.” And it gives her the perfect lead. “So, what are Sowers, exactly?”

Buck grins. “Well now, that’s just whereabouts the tour begins. You ladies good to head out?”

“We’re good,” Cranberi nods. “How long does the tour take?”

“Just about an hour, give or take. We’d best get on if you want to settle down before lunch.”

“That sounds perfect! So where do we start?”

Buck heads for the back rooms, waving for them to follow. Nami trails behind him with Cran bringing up the rear. The rooms here look more like a lounge than anything – there’s a small, empty bar with a basket of full waterskins, and all the seating littered around looks soft enough for her to sink into them and never move again. Buck leads them through to the very back door, and she can hear people on the other side. “We’ll be startin’ off in the farms. Greenhouse’s just around the corner.”

“The farms, huh?” Cranberi says. Buck holds the door open for them, and they all step out into the light. “I guess you guys aren’t just growing food there?”

He shakes his head. “The farms we’re headin’ to ain’t for food, miss Cranberi. But uh… maybe I should start from a more proper beginnin’.”

Buck clears his throat and starts leading them to the greenhouse Nami can see just a few buildings away.

“Way back, just around the town’s conception, we were miners. Found some damn nice material in these here cliffs, though o’ course they weren’t so deep yet. But the metal here, we figured, couldn’t be found anywhere else on the continent – any sorcerers we had said spells could stick to the stuff like no other, and that made it valuable. So our ancestors got to diggin’, makin’ good, honest money out’ the ravine. Enough for the town to expand, get more workers, for families to settle here. But it didn’t take very long for them to find somethin’ a little odder than metal.

“See, they started findin’ this… gooey material. All of a sudden the rocks stopped and some sorta fleshy bits started. Didn’t have a damn clue what it was ‘til they got some magic-users down there to investigate, and by then they’d dug in too deep to consider backing out.”

Is that what made the town so odd… “What was it?”

“A beast,” Buck says. “The greatest beast anyone’d ever thought could be on this plane.”

A beast.

A _massive_ beast. She looks over the ravine, remembering how deep it was – the crack in the earth practically cleaves the land in two. She can just barely make out either end, far in the distance. To imagine something as big as that, maybe even bigger, and above land no less… she’s only ever considered something of that scale living far under the ocean, in places she’s never been allowed to explore.

“Holy shit,” Cranberi breathes. “What part…?”

“What part were we diggin’ in?” She nods. “Straight into the head. The mine shaft we used to get down that far slipped right between the cracks of its skull.”

An entire mineshaft going through a skull easily enough to be an accident. No, Nami thinks, whatever’s down there is even bigger than the things in the ocean.

She tries desperately to imagine some sort of scale – a single eyeball’s worth. How big would one of its eyes be? Larger than a window. Larger than her. Larger than Buck. Larger than their room at the inn. It just keeps getting bigger and bigger in her head, and she just keeps feeling smaller and smaller. It may as well be as wide across as the sky.

“Goddess…”

“It wasn’t… I don’t know, decomposed?” Nami asks weakly, “how long has it been dead?”

Buck laughs. “Who said it was dead?”

She’s struck silent.

“… You’re kidding,” Cranberi says, steps slowing in shock.

“It ain’t dead,” Buck reiterates. “The Buried’s just sleepin’. Been sleepin’ for eons, we’d say, even without the massive hole somethin’ or other broke its head open with.”

“Why still go down there?” Cranberi asks, panicked, “if you’re digging around in its _brain_ , you’re gonna eventually wake it up! Why?”

They reach the greenhouse. The glass panes that make up the large walls are foggy and dripping with condensation. Nami can see people – still in those light tan clothes – walking around in there, holding various pots and jars, watering crops. Every once in a while there’s someone that isn’t wearing the tan garb walking around the rows of plants or pushing their hands into the dirt.

Buck stops just before the door.

“The Buried,” he says seriously, “is sick. We’re awful lucky, matter o’ fact, to have dug into its head over any other part. If not, we might not’ve seen the sickness ‘til it was too late.

“Now, I know what you’re thinkin’,” he says, turning to stare Cranberi down before she can speak: “if it’s sick, why not just wait for it to die out? Well, it ain’t that simple. See, the sickness don’t kill it, far as we can tell. It’s a sickness of the mind.

“Once we got past the skull and into the Buried’s head, the miners started getting’ exposed to this… material. And they found more and more of it the deeper in they got. Anyone that stayed down there too long, got too much of it on their skin, in their lungs… they all started fallin’ into a rage.

“Again, it was those magic-users – the town’s first Sowers – that figured out what the shit was.” He pauses, frowning. “Malice. Something infected the Buried’s head and filled it with some sort of magic that made its Hate physical. Hell, we’re not even sure it _is_ it’s Hate – could be just another symptom makin’ the bastards pop up more than they usually would. The brain’s full of it.

“They start out as little Wisps in the flesh, then grow and grow and eat up more o’ the brain as it spreads. When it’s small, not ready to pop out yet, it sheds the same sorta sickness. That’s the shit our old miners got infected with.

“But when they _are_ ready to pop out on their own… Well. They’re damn bastards, is what they are.” Buck shakes his head in slow anger. “Most terrifyin’ monsters this side of the country. We’ve all seen ‘em, once or twice when they make it to the surface. We get about one or two every year.”

Cran frowns into the foggy glass walls of the greenhouse. “So if you’re still going into its head instead of closing up the mine, and the Hate isn’t killing it… what are you doing?”

He smiles. “That’s where the Sowers come in,” he says, and opens the door.

It’s busy in here. Busier than the streets outside the inn. There are so many people, and the greenhouse is even larger than she thought it looked from the outside. Every wall is lined with shelves full of flowerpots and large glass jars that look like the one in the display case back at the shop.

There’s no paper hanging from the ceiling here; instead, they’re hung from the edges of tables and along the shelves, some even tied to people’s belts so that they bounce and wave as they walk. Most people are counting rows or watering the bright green plants with a red-tinged liquid, but some are carrying empty jars to specific plants. Nami watches as one person angles a huge bulb to face into a jar and squeezes it.

The thing that comes out… it has a form, she knows it does, but she can’t pin it down in her head. It’s bright in the same way the night sky is bright: visibly shining, but not illuminating anything. The person handling it closes up the jar smiling, seeming to pet the plant in thanks before taking the light to be put away.

She’s startled out of her thoughts by Cranberi’s touch on her shoulder. The other woman looks concerned, but Nami shakes her head at her. She still wants to know – she wants to know even more now than she did before.

“See, the first Sowers, they came up with a plan,” Buck continues and leads them further in. Nami sticks close to Cranberi’s side, trusting her to tug her along while she looks around. “They figured the Buried would wake up eventually, and what would happen if it had nothin’ but Hate in its head? A giant ancient beast, goin’ around killin’ every bit o’ life it saw. And yeah, maybe it wouldn’t wake up in their lifetime, but that don’t mean it ain’t a problem for their children, or their children’s children.

“So they started thinkin’, and they thought ‘what’s the thing that kills hate most?’ Understandin’ is the obvious one, a little Insight, maybe. But what they settled on was Empathy and Love.

“Those first Sowers studied their asses off, makin’ it work. As history goes, it took more than a few expeditions in some o’ the more Hate-filled bits of the brain, and a good few people got infected before they found what they were lookin’ for. One day, though, they found somethin’ that stuck.

He waves to the rows and rows of plants. “See, if someone gives – o’ their own free will, mind you – a piece of their Empathy and Love to act as a seed, they could make it grow into one o’ these plants. Then it bears fruit that acts like its own seed, and they could plant _that_ into the Buried’s head.” Buck smiles down at them. “The fruit don’t sprout into plants down there, and if it did, it’d be gettin’ weaker with every… uh, _iteration_ from the original. But once a seed is planted down there, it stays. Drives out the Hate from all around it.”

“A little more complicated than that, Buck,” a voice says, “but close enough, I guess.”

A human man, only a little shorter than Cranberi and with a head of bright red frizzy hair, comes over to them smiling in greeting. He has dimples, Nami notices. And then she _notices_. If she’s not wrong, this might be Loraline’s son Eskel.

“Eskel,” Buck greets, and why yes, Nami _is_ a genius, thank you, “you don’t gotta interrupt every tour with your magic talk. Folk’s ain’t usually interested enough to stick around.”

Eskel laughs. “One day I’ll catch one. How’s about it?” He turns to them, fluttering long eyelashes at Cranberi and Nami in turn. Oh, she likes this one. “Ever consider becoming a Sower? I promise it’s less stuffy than this guy makes it sound.”

“Aw lay off, kid, it’s a noble profession.”

“Only in the workroom,” Eskel grins and turns to them again. “We’re extra careful around the plants, but none of that carries over. Garrin over there,” he says, pointing to a halfling girl watering one of the plants, “sets the breakroom on fire near once a week, and my buddy Abris goes jumping into the ravine for fun.”

Buck snorts. “Damn menace. One day that featherfall’s not gonna be quick enough.”

Eskel just shrugs. “Not all of us can be on the Watch. Need to get our kicks somehow.”

“ _You’re_ the one that made the spells on our room!” Nami smiles, holding out a hand. Eskel looks confused with the sudden change in topic but takes her up on a handshake. “I’m Nami, and this is Cranberi. We were staying at Loraline’s Inn last night.”

“Ah.” The cheeky grin fades into something a little more honest. “The sound strips. Guess you liked those, huh?”

“They were amazing!”

“They were pretty impressive,” Cranberi agrees. “We were going to head back there after the tour to see if we could catch you, maybe buy a few of those, uh, strips? For our friends.”

He _blushes_. So cute. “I’ve, um, I have a few extra, yeah. I’ll head back home once I’m done with my shift here.”

“Ooh,” Buck leans down to loom over the boy, “so you finally figured out how to make them, eh? What happened to tellin’ my Fauna they were done?”

“Shut up, old man,” he grumbles, “Momma asked first, I’ll meet up with Fauna soon.”

Nami elbows Cranberi and they share a knowing smile. The kid’s practically see-through; she hasn’t even met Fauna, and she can tell the guy dotes on her. Adorable. “We don’t want to butt ahead of anyone,” she assures them both, “we just know a few people that would really appreciate them.”

“And a few study-types that would love to figure them out,” Cranberi adds. She’s not wrong.

Eskel nods, looking five seconds from hiding his face in his shirt. “I’ll get you some, yeah. No problem. Uh, in the meantime!” He glares at Buck, “I bet he was too busy on the history part to tell you what kind of activities you can do here.”

Buck frowns and looks around innocently.

“Figures.” Eskel rolls his eyes. “Well, you can’t do much without being a Sower, but if you want to participate, we’ve got one important bit of this operation that always needs filling.”

“We’d love to help out,” Nami says, which would be true even without the threat of some giant beast tromping around sometime in the (hopefully far) future. “What is it?”

“Seeding.” He gestures to the plants. “Like Buck said, we don’t get these from nothing. It takes our _literal_ Love and Care, but the thing is, people only have so much of that at a time.” He grimaces. “I’ve seen Sowers burn themselves out once or twice just from Seeding. We heal from it just fine – we’re not splitting souls here or anything – but if you put all your Love into Seeding, you won’t have any left for yourself.”

Cranberi hums. “So you want fresh people to make seeds?”

“Exactly.” He smiles. “Interested? I promise, it’s a way more pleasant experience when you’re not exhausted and putting yourself into a depression. And Love is one of those things that regenerates real quick for certain people, so you won’t be missing it long.”

“How long does it take?”

Eskel tilts his head at them, humming. “… It varies. Here - we can do a quick exercise, see how fast it’ll go with you two. I’ll ask a question, and you don’t have to answer! But when you _think_ of an answer, just raise your hand, yeah?”

Nami nods. “Sounds good.”

“Okay, question is: what is your happiest memory?”

Happiest memory…

That’s a tough one. It could be when she finally mastered her trident. Maybe when she found her favorite spot on the coast back home. That first time she went swimming without being watched? When she ‘borrowed’ her sister’s makeup for a day, and she came back just to see Nami’s face over sparkled and dyed purple with eyeshadow? The time she was practicing dancing with her brother when she was very little, and he kept swinging her when no one else was paying attention?

Or…

Nami raises her hand. Cranberi raises hers a few seconds later.

Eskel grins, clapping his hands together. “You guys are fast! It shouldn’t take any time at all then, maybe ten minutes at most.”

Cran shrugs. “I don’t see the harm in it.”

“Yeah, lead the way!”

He cheers. “Yes! Alright, come on, this way.”

“I’ll be waitin’ here for when you’re done,” Buck says when she looks back to him. “We’ll continue the tour. Got a stop or two planned after this one.”

Nami smiles and follows the other two further into the greenhouse.

“Alright, the rooms I’m taking you to are called the Sanctuaries,” Eskel babbles as they walk on. “I actually based the sound strips off of the stuff they have in there! I’ll be just outside to walk you through it if you get stuck, but in the end you should do what feels natural. Some people head straight for the seed jars, some just put their hands in the dirt, some grab the water first – like I said, it varies.”

“Is there anything we should be doing?” Cranberi asks. “Disinfecting, or meditating before we go in?”

“Not necessary!”

They reach one of the glass doors on the far wall that leads into one of the adjacent buildings. Eskel holds it open for both of them and carefully seals it once he steps through.

The room they step into is… kind of empty, actually. Plain, made from dark wood, with the only spot of color being the row of white doors painted with blue sigils on the wall in front of them. They’re practically humming with magic, and Nami feels drawn to the second to last one.

“See,” Eskel says as she steps towards it, “it’s all instinct. Once you’re in there, just focus on that happiest memory and go with what feels right.”

Nami feels the handle turn under her hand.

“Wait, Nami—!”

“It’s fine, it’s okay! You can wait for her out here if you want.”

She opens the door.

“And how do I know she’s not under some sort of influence?”

“Oh, she is. Okay, no wait, put the sickle away, okay? I promise it’s fine! She’ll come out, ten minutes tops, just the same as when we walked in!”

“Es _kel_.”

The door closes behind her with a soft click.

It smells like home.

She can feel the salt on her fins. Feel the long cloak that she’s clutching around her, feel how the hood covers her recognizable hair, her face, her entire identity. Were the travelling shoes they gave her actually this comfortable? Did she always stand this confidently?

She has a watering can in her hand.

She feels Vaihere’s hands on her face. They’re so warm, but the wind off the sea isn’t as cold as she thought it was. She’d always loved her sister’s voice. She basks in it now, even as Vaihere tells her how important it is to listen. Vaguely, she knows this has already happened. The listening part isn’t important anymore. She can just enjoy.

Red tinted water falls into a flowerpot filled with dark soil. She sticks her hands in it, as deep as they can go, getting it smooth, ready, accustomed to her.

Gal’s arms wrap around her shoulders. She always feels so little when he hugs her, but it’s always been comforting. His voice rumbles in her ear. Smooth, regal, a voice he was born with the rights to. He’s always been so much more collected, but she can hear cracks in it here, between the three of them. The words escape her hearing now, but she knows what he says anyway: be safe, be strong, don’t get caught.

The jar isn’t heavy. She sits in front of the flowerpot, hugging it to her chest, and breathes.

_“This might be the only chance you have, Nami.”_

_“We’ll distract them for as long as we can, but you have to be quick.”_

Something shines in the jar. She stands.

_“You’ve never been happy here, I’m sorry for not helping as much as I should have.”_

_“Be safe, be strong, and don’t get caught.”_

She upends it into the soil, and the thing inside sinks in without even disturbing it.

_“You’re the greatest little sister I ever could have asked for.”_

_“Remember your lessons, okay?”_

Nami traces the sigils on the sides of the pot, activating them.

_“I love you more than anything.”_

_“I love you!”_

She’s free.

The compulsion fades the longer she stands in front of her flowerpot, still clutching the jar to her chest.

She feels…

She’s not sure what she feels. She never thought she’d hear her sibling’s voices again so soon. She never thought she’d remember what home felt like in so much clarity.

At the same time, Nami can pick out the changes the compulsion had made for the sake of keeping her comfortable. The shoes Gal bought her hadn’t been worn-in yet and had chafed her feet after only an hour of running. The wind off the ocean hadn’t just been cool, it was freezing, and the long cloak Vaihere gave her barely warmed her at all. It was important, they said, to wear the same things her subjects wore if she wanted to blend in. She’d never thought about how much time it would take for those things to become comfortable before.

Nami breathes in the salty air. She’s still holding the jar to her chest, but she knows that’s no comparison to the thing she really wants right now. The thing that’s probably still waiting for her just outside.

So she puts it where she found it. The ache that comes in its place isn’t painful, but it is hard to ignore. Not wasting any more time, she opens the door she entered through.

Cranberi is being flanked by two nervous-looking Sowers with her sickle held stiffly in one hand. The other is flexing so that her claws are on display, and she’s staring down Eskel in a way that promises death sometime in the next five minutes. As soon as the door opens fully, she relaxes, eyes scanning over Nami that way she always does when she’s looking for injuries. Every Sower in the room breathes a sigh of relief.

Nami doesn’t care right now. She needs one thing, and she knows her friend can give it to her. No more wasting time. She leans her trident against the nearest wall and puts her bag down beside it.

Cran looks confused. It doesn’t matter. Nami paces over and buries her face in her friend’s armor, wrapping her arms around the other woman in a silent demand. The ache pulsing in her chest eases as soon as she feels her hug being returned, and she sighs.

“What. Happened.”

“It’s okay,” she mumbles. She’s not in the mood to be loud right now. Her friend can hear her either way. “I’m fine. It was… good. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“We should have gotten more _warning_ ,” she says, glaring at Eskel over her head. “If you hadn’t been so fucking vague, I wouldn’t be five seconds from gutting your ass.”

Nami takes a deep breath. “You should do it. The seeding thing.”

There’s a pause.

“Oh. I almost,” Cran says, smiling a bit, “thought you were saying ‘you should absolutely gut this kid, Cranberi, he deserves it’.”

Nami snorts. “No.”

“I’d do it,” her friend continues, making her laugh more, “but I’d also think you were possessed, so I’m not sure where I’d fall on the whole ‘he deserves it’ bit.”

“Pff- _don’t_ , please.” She says and finally pulls away. Everyone in the room other than the two of them looks significantly more stressed. “But the seeding… It’s tiring, but I think you’ll like it. It doesn’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

“Hm.” Cranberi glares a bit more at Eskel, making him twitch.

Then she looks at Nami, who gives her best guppy eyes. She knows Cran would regret not taking this chance, but she doesn’t want to ruin the surprise unless it looks like her friend’s going to walk away.

“… Fine. Don’t go anywhere.”

With that, she heads to the first door on the left, pointedly taking her sickle with her. She only goes in once she’s made eye contact with every Sower here.

The door closes behind her with a click.

“… Sorry about that,” she says, belatedly, to Eskel. “She’s a good person, just… really protective.”

He slumps. “I figured that out, yeah.” One of the other Sowers smacks his arm, and he winces. “I should also apologize. We don’t get many adventuring types—” another smack— “I mean! Sorry. I should’ve warned you. Both of you.”

It doesn’t take much thinking to figure out what he means. “Don’t worry about it too much. Cranberi’s just… still in mission mode, right now. We got separated from our group a few days ago.”

Eskel frowns, then smiles at the other Sowers. “Thanks for the backup, guys. I’ll be out in a few.”

“Sure thing, Es.”

“Don’t die.”

They head back out into the greenhouse, shutting the door behind them.

He lets his smile fall, giving Nami his complete focus. “What happened? Is there any way we can help?”

“Oh. No, I don’t think so.” She shakes her head. “Other than travelling supplies, but we can just buy those anyway. We weren’t attacked or anything – or, um, we _were_ attacked, but that was after we were already on our own. It was just, uh…” Nami frowns and goes to pick up her bag, just for something to do.

“… We were in Teyeth on a research trip. Everyone had a paper with a teleportation sigil on it, so we could get back whenever we needed, but… Cranberi’s got shredded in a fight. So I let her use mine!” She straps her trident to her back, where it belongs. “But, um, I guess one of the lines got smudged during the mission, and… she couldn’t tell me, because she’d already teleported away. So we both just ended up in Feta on accident. A day or two north of here.”

He cringes sympathetically. “That’s a long way. Where are you two trying to go?”

“The southern coast of Hakuc.”

“Gods…”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “We’ve got a long way to go. But it’ll be worth it when we finally get there, right? So we’re taking a break here, and we’ll keep going tomorrow morning.”

“Well…” He says slowly, “it’s lucky that she had to use yours, huh? At least this way you’re not alone.”

Nami scoffs. “Lucky.”

“There are worse places to be.”

Gods, she doesn’t want to imagine what would’ve happened if Cranberi’s letter hadn’t been shredded, if her sigil hadn’t worked _at all_. She would have had to trek all the way back to the capital of Teyeth on her own. Or, if it did work, maybe she still would’ve ended up in Feta. Or worse, _Kath_.

She shouldn’t think so rudely of Kath. She’s sure there are plenty of nice people in Kath. But every time she and her friends even think about going there, something bad happens. Stupid Grithon. Stupid Kath.

Stupid Circidan, making her ‘lucky’ enough to drag Cranberi down with her.

Whatever.

She lets the conversation die out while they’re waiting. It feels like it takes a lot longer than Nami took, but eventually the door to her friend’s station opens and Cranberi walks out.

Her face is blank, and her pupils are narrowed into slits. She doesn’t even bother setting her bag down – just drops everything to the floor and wraps her arms around Nami, rubbing a cheek into her hair. It’s enough to make her laugh even before the other woman starts purring. “How’d it go?”

Cran just groans. It’s descriptive enough.

“I’m really sorry for earlier, I—”

“Enough,” Cranberi says, rolling her eyes. “I get it. You’re forgiven.”

Eskel blinks. “Just like that?”

“Too tired to yell at people.” She sighs, pulling away from Nami to look down at her. “You ready to go?”

“Mhm!”

“Buck’s still waiting outside,” Eskel says cautiously, “and I can meet you two back at the inn, if you’re still interested?”

Nami smiles. “That should be fine. Thank you, Eskel.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Cranberi takes a few seconds to scoop up her belongings, strapping her sickle to her hip once again. Eskel escorts them out, glancing back at her every few seconds. She seems to be trying very hard to ignore him – she’s looking around the greenhouse instead, watching people squeeze seeds into jars, planting and re-potting the greenery until they reach Buck.

He’s pretty much right where they left him, except now he’s leaning against one of the many tables looking bored. He perks up when he spots them, though, standing and stretching his shoulders. “Well now, you two look pretty tired. How’d it go?”

They share a glance. Nami smiles, still a bit unsteady. “It was really interesting.”

“Ain’t it just. Right, if you ladies are set to move on, we’ve got two more stops.”

“We’re good,” Cran chimes.

Eskel clears his throat. “I’ll be at the inn after… in an hour or so. I’ll see what I can set you guys up with then.”

“Thank you again, Eskel.”

“Alright you two,” Buck grins, “on to the Forge!”

He’s already halfway to the door when she and Cranberi start trailing slowly after him. Nami gives the Sowers – mostly Eskel, but there are a few others watching them pass – a friendly wave goodbye as they go.

Cranberi slings an arm around her shoulders as they finally escape the greenhouse and she speeds up to match her pace. Buck seems to be letting them have their privacy for the moment, trusting them to follow him deeper into the town. She’s grateful – emotional vulnerability with near-strangers is not something she enjoys.

“So,” Cran starts, hesitant, “do you need to talk about it?”

The same vulnerability with Cranberi? If they weren’t literally in the middle of a busy mining town she’d take it in a heartbeat. Something aches in her chest, and it’s a feeling only the thought of home can give her. “… I can, but… maybe later?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to make sure.”

“I’m good.” Nami frowns. “What about you?”

“I’m fine,” she lies. _Obviously_ lies – usually it’s so hard to tell with how even Cranberi’s voice is most of the time, but just now something about her composure seemed to slip. She is very much not fine, and for once it looks like she’s trying to clue Nami in on that.

Gods, they all need so much therapy. That’s third on the list of things they need to do when they get back to the tower, right under ‘give everyone a hug’ and ‘report to Linan’; for now, though, they’ve only got each other. “What happened?”

She shakes her head. “It wasn’t- I mean, it _was_ , but I—” she makes a quiet sound, “I just don’t get it. What I got wasn’t the memory I was thinking about. It startled me. I’m fine.”

Because that’s not concerning at all! “Wait, what were you trying to remember?”

“My sister,” she says, which is not at all a surprise. “I was trying to remember when she was born, but apparently that’s not my happiest memory? Which is ridiculous! And what it gave me instead was—”

She glances down at Nami and sighs. “It just. Wasn’t something that most people would consider happy.”

Maybe she shouldn’t ask. Maybe this is just one of the opportunities Nami should pass by for the sake of keeping things as comfortable as they have been. She knows that she and Cranberi have never really talked about themselves to each other, that she might trust the other woman as a part of the team but barely understands why she decided to stay past the first day. There’s a very high possibility that Cran will just get upset if she pushes for a little bit more.

For some reason, though, she thinks she has a chance.

So Nami puts a hand on the arm still around her shoulders and says “Tell me?”

**_[20]_ **

Cranberi scoffs. For a split second, she tastes failure.

“It was my fucking _mother_ ,” she says. Nami feels the ice in her veins recede. “Coco wasn’t even there. I could smell home and one of those stupid candles that momma kept around and I could hear her just, fucking…”

Cran groans. “Apparently my happiest memory is her realizing how much of a useless ass I am and saying how much better Coco is. That she doesn’t trust me to carry on the family name or whatever the hell, so when she dies everything’s going to my sister. Won’t even keep my name on the records. Like I never existed.”

She blinks.

“… _What_?”

“Yeah.”

“What the fuck…?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s- I- that’s not true _at all_ ,” Nami growls. “You know that’s not true, right? You’re _not_ useless, you’re one of my best friends!”

“I know.”

“Why would she- why would _anyone_ say something like that?”

She sighs. “Momma was- well, is- pretty strict. I don’t think she wanted kids that much. Or, well, she _wanted_ kids, but she just wanted them to- I don’t know, be smart? Be better? Apparently Coco made the cut and I just… didn’t.” Cranberi looks around, ears flicking at all the sounds in the street. “And that’s my happiest memory, I guess.”

Nami’s jaw clenches just imagining it. “Why?”

“Don’t get me wrong. Momma was- is- an emotionally abusive piece of shit, and she always has been.”

Nami nods, mentally vowing to find a way to get a few minutes alone with that woman if they ever meet. Hopefully in a room with a lock on the door. How many people in their group would help? Barnaby, for sure. Freedon, Joemin. Probably Kisia. Kilgon? Well, if he doesn’t want to, he can go distract Cranberi instead.

“When she said that shit, she wasn’t just saying it to hurt me. She meant it. She was giving up on my progress, barely even considering me her child, and putting all those expectations on my sister. And honestly? It was one of the best things she’d ever done for me.”

Nami looks at her so fast she feels her braid swing over her shoulder. “Really?”

“She thought I’d just lay down and die without her,” Cran says. “She probably wanted me to break down and beg to get my place back, work twice as hard even though I wasn’t pleasing her half as much as Coco, but what actually happened was me just… leaving her to rot. I was the one that looked after Coco, went into town for food when we couldn’t catch anything hunting, took care of all the little things she didn’t want to… and then I went to school, took all that shit with me, and hopefully screwed her over.”

“Good,” she says, blood practically boiling. “I can’t stand people like that… Wait, is that why you don’t tell anyone your last name?”

“Yup. Far as I’m concerned, I don’t have one anymore.”

“Huh.”

A lot of things pop into clarity, suddenly. Cranberi never talked about her parents before, only her sister. She never said why she decided to leave Coco behind to head to school, just that she did, and never once said there was a reason she took so long going back to her hometown, just that she ran around for a while after she dropped her classes. Never gave a last name as part of her introduction; always just said, when pushed, that she didn’t have one.

“… Huh,” she says again as it all clicks into place. “So what _was_ your name?”

Cranberi smiles. “Lightner.”

Okay. If she ever meets a Tabaxi woman named Lightner, she’ll know what to do. In the meantime, she pulls Cranberi to a stop and wraps her arms around her again. “Thank you for telling me.”

The hug gets returned practically immediately. Nami makes another mental note to hug Cran more. Gods only know how much she must need one. A few seconds pass like this before Nami pulls away, letting them start walking again. “Yeah. Sorry for, um, dumping all that on you, I guess. It was just so fucking weird hearing that shit again after so much time.”

Nami looks around. The crowds are thinning out now, and Buck is far enough ahead of them that he probably can’t hear what they’re talking about. It’s still a risk, but… even if her families’ agents find her here, she’s not alone.

“Mine was the night I ran,” she says quietly. Cranberi glances at her, concerned. “My siblings- Gal and Vaihere- they’re the ones that helped me get out. I remembered saying goodbye to them.”

She hums. “Happiest memories, huh? Well, at least we’re free now.”

Nami almost laughs at how simple Cran makes it sound. They were in awful places and then suddenly they weren’t, and it makes them happy. Say it like that and it seems so childish. Like being stuck in a finger trap— they couldn’t get out, but then they did! Like magic instead of years of struggling with identity and self-worth. Ta-da, you’re free, you can get on with your life.

It’s insane how comforting that is. It was hard, but now it’s all in the past. She’s free. They both are.

So she just hums in agreement and pulls Cranberi to walk a little faster. She doesn’t want to _completely_ lose sight of Buck after all.

They catch up within a minute or so and trail behind Buck like ducklings. He just smiles back at them and continues where he left off, like this was the cue he’d been waiting for. That’s kind of him, she thinks, and wonders how many times he’s seen people do the Seeding. If everyone’s memories are like theirs, it would be no wonder that he’d gotten used to giving them some privacy afterward.

“So,” he says, “now you’ve got the gist of what the Seeds are, yeah? But that’s only… ‘bout a third of the operation, let’s say.

“The first Sowers figured out how to plant Love and Empathy down there, but back then the Buried had too much Hate for the seeds to be planted. The changes were too tiny, they were gettin’ drowned out. So they had to figure out how to get a clear spot for the seeds to root, make the next expedition easier.

“Here comes the second breed o’ Sowers,” Buck continues and points to what could only be the Forge. “Still Sowers, but we started callin’ ‘em Minders. They got the idea to keep usin’ all the mining material they’d _been_ usin’ up ‘til then, except now they’d mine out all the Hate Wisps. And, wouldn’t you know it, the town was still sittin’ on all that precious metal that could hold magic like nothin’ else.”

The Forge is a pretty large building, but what catches Nami’s eye is the small pile of armor being loaded into a cart just outside. It’s the same sort of armor that fell out of a similar cart that morning. The one that rang like bells when it clanged together.

Buck leads the way in like before, and this place is even busier than the greenhouse had been. There are no quiet corners filled with growing plants here; all the people are either running between stations with materials or working tirelessly on the pieces of metal on their workbenches. Yet, there’s one thing Nami didn’t expect at all.

They’re singing.

It’s soft singing, only really loud enough to travel to the worker’s immediate surroundings, but they’re _all_ doing it, and they’re all singing the exact same song, on the same beat. The harmony reaches farther than individual voices could.

Mixed with the clanging of bell-like armor, it sounds more like magic than song. It’s music she could get hopelessly lost in.

“It’s called Songweaving,” Buck says, raising his voice to be heard over the noise. Nami’s surprised to note that the extra voice isn’t jarring at all – even an interruption seems to flow into the harmony. “Every work station has a Sower, and every Sower sings the magic into the metal.”

All at once, the song quiets as every station takes up a piece of metal – a helmet port, a piece of a gauntlet, an armor plate – with tongs and dunks it into a waiting bucket of water.

Instead of metal screeching as it cools, they all seem to sing back.

“Made right, this is the stuff that keeps our Minders safe and cuts right into the Hate,” Back says as the metal quiets. People at every station are sagging with relief, drinking water, clearing their throats. A few shouts go up in celebration of another bit of armor finished. “I ain’t too sure o’ the logistics, but once it’s charmed they say it’ll even go out of its way to protect you.”

Oh, she wants some. “Are you still exporting it?”

Buck grimaces, rubbing at his neck. “Sad to say,” he says, and Nami’s _already_ disappointed, “we keep it to ourselves these days. As it is, the stuff’s too important to the operation and the mines are only gettin’ drier.”

She can’t help but sigh. Armor that actually wants to protect people… she’s still not sure how sturdy it is, but it sounds so nice to have. She was already thinking about who she should give some to – Kisia and Freedon would probably get the most use out of it, though Kilgon would need it more – but if she can’t have any…

“That’s smart,” she admits. Maybe she’ll be able to talk someone into giving her a piece later. “You never know when you’ll need it.”

He nods. “Most folks that pass through like to spend a good piece o’ the tour in this building – Songweavin’s our more sacred art, you know. They don’t teach it anywhere like we teach it here.”

“I’m surprised we haven’t heard of it before,” Cranberi says. “If it really is unique, I’d think anyone that can use their voice like this would be scrambling to learn it.”

“Don’t you go doubtin’ us, miss Cranberi.” Buck glances at her. “We _are_ well known, but this is still sacred. We don’t teach just anyone.”

Nami smiles and nudges herself between the two. “Woah, you’ve got to be pretty strict, right? What rules do people have to follow to learn it?”

“Main one’s how much time you spend in town.” He shrugs. “Livin’ and learnin’ here gives folks a good idea on why we keep it so close. If the wrong sort learned our type of magic… well, at the very least it’d just turn into one more evil in the world.” Buck shakes his head and smiles. “But enough about that. We’ve still got one more stop, whenever you two’re ready.”

Nami looks around. It seems like the Songweavers will be on break for a little while – stations are being cleaned for the next batch of armor, and some have been emptied completely. It _is_ nearly time for lunch. Her stomach grumbles a bit at the thought; did she have breakfast? It’s hard to tell.

“I think we’re good to go,” Cranberi says. Oh, she zoned out a little there. Oops. “It’s the last stop, right?”

He smiles. “Don’t you worry, miss Cranberi, I’ll have you back on the main road in time for some o’ Loraline’s stew. Last stop is the Eastern Watch. S’got a more straightforward story, but some folks like seein’ the building.”

They follow him out again, Nami waving goodbye to the few people that catch her eye, and head towards the edge of town.

“Like I said,” Buck continues, “the Hate Wisps keep growin’ if our Minders don’t get to ‘em in time. Pop out as these ugly bastards that’ll slash you open in a heartbeat – but that’s not the most dangerous part of ‘em.” He glances over, eyes lingering on Nami’s trident. “The most dangerous is how _smart_ they are.

“A full-form Hate Shadow—” she startles at the word ‘shadow’; doesn’t that sound familiar— “pops out the mine in the middle o’ the ravine, and it knows it won’t get far. Damned thing has three options: left, right, and up. It goes up, it’s right in the middle o’ town – sure, it’ll get a few hits in on some unlucky people, but we got ways to take care of it. It goes left or right, it runs into one o’ the Watch stations. Highly monitored, folks goin’ back and forth while the shifts change. It’ll be spotted in a heartbeat, but it’s got better chance there, and it knows it.”

Buck shrugs. “Maybe it’ll hunker down in the mine for a day or two, but they always rush the Watch in the end. Most of ‘em are put down right away, more or less, but every once in a while – once or twice a year – one o’ them manages to get through.”

Nami nudges Cran nervously, and they share a panicked look. So she’s figured it out, too. Nami’s ready to start whispering, trying to figure out what to do with the information, when Cranberi holds up her hands in a very familiar gesture.

And, well, maybe Nami never took a class, but she’s been around Freedon long enough to know some signing.

_‘We tell, yes?’_

_‘Maybe,’_ Cran signs back, wincing. _‘And maybe scare.’_

Nami bites her lip. Causing a panic is the last thing she wants, but if there are Hate Shadows that close to town…

Hopefully her friend can see the sense in it. _‘We tell See,’_ she signs, exaggerating the ‘see’ so it could mean ‘watch’. She might not know the actual sign, but she’s seen this one a few times. _‘Think more.’_

Cranberi makes a face but doesn’t argue, which more or less means it’s settled. They’ll find a member of the Watch later to pass on the news and figure out where to go from there. Granted, it’s one of their more typical plans, but it’s worked before so there’s no reason it shouldn’t work now.

“So the Watch looks out for ‘em,” Buck says, completely oblivious. “Not to mention the Hate Wisps that get carted out o’ the mine. Unfortunately, they don’t just die once we pull ‘em – we gotta bottle ‘em the same way we bottle Seeds and ship ‘em for safe disposal.”

Cran tilts her head. “Disposal?”

He hums an agreement. “Magic’ll do it, but we don’t want too many Hate Wisps in town for long. One person drops a Wisp jar in a room full of ‘em waitin’ to be disposed, and the town’s done for. So we ship ‘em off to one of our outta-town locals. Put more Watchmen on that cart then we would for royalty, so no-one passin’ through gets any ideas.” He looks back at them. “Escorted a cart myself a week ago. Don’t you worry, the Watch has got some damn fine people in it.”

“You’re a Watchman?”

“Indeed I am, miss Nami.” He grins. “Been at it for longer than my marriage. Everyone in town does their part – tours, food, care and health, seeding and mining… but damn, I love the Watch. I ain’t the scholarly type, y’know, but you don’t need books to be good in the field.”

She smiles. “Wow. I’m really glad you found a calling.”

“Not many people do,” Cranberi adds.

“An’ I’m grateful for it.” They reach one of the taller buildings in town; it would be average if not for the massive tower, obviously built to be a lookout point. Looking up, Nami can spot at least one person up there, visibly leaning against the rail in boredom.

Buck follows her gaze and gets a strange look on his face. He looks around silently and scuffs his foot in the dirt, unearthing a small rock that he picks up. He takes a few, slow steps back, eyes locked on the top of the tower.

And then he _launches_ it, giving a little hop as he does to build up energy. It rockets right up to the tip of the tower and CLANGS against the roof, sending whoever had been slouched against the rail flailing in panic. A short scream echoes down and sends Buck into hysterics. He wipes a tear from his eye just as a woman’s head peeks over the railing to glare down at them.

She seems to be… an air Genasi, maybe? Or an albino human. It’s hard to tell with the distance, but she’s humanoid even though her entire head looks drained of color.

“Damn it, Buck!” She snarls, long hair hanging freely over the open air. “One day I’m gonna come down there and tear you a new one!”

He just laughs some more. “Focus on your post and I won’t startle you so often!”

“Fuck off!”

Buck giggles and turns back to them. “That there’s Zela. Don’t let her bark fool you, she’s soft for everyone that’s not me.”

“ _What_ is he saying!” Zela shouts down. “Don’t let him slander me! He’s an ass!”

“She’s also real fun to rile up,” he says like it’s a secret. “Took ages to earn my special little spot in her heart, but I say it’s well worth every second.”

Nami thinks of all their group’s shenanigans in Eliah’s library and smiles. She knows Cranberi’s thinking the exact same thing, too, because she sees Nami’s face and can’t seem to help rolling her eyes. Everyone except Cran – and possibly Joemin - likes bullying Eliah a lot. It’s very entertaining.

She gets lost in thought as Buck leads them inside. It’s been a few days now since they were all separated, and she can’t help but feel that they’d all have loved to be here, even if it did mean getting lost in the beginning. Nami really hopes they’re not looking for them back in Teyeth… the mission site had been so far from the teleport point, they would have to spend days just walking there, not to mention actually searching.

Cranberi lets her hang off her arm while Nami’s mind wanders. When did this part of their friendship become a thing? She tries thinking back as they’re led up a long flight of stairs, but can’t seem to remember. Nami can vaguely recall having to hang on to Cran’s hand in a dark tunnel, but… has it really been that long?

She’s shaken out of her thoughts as they reach the end of the stairway.

Oh.

From the top of the watchtower, she can see miles into the practically unending forest. The town had already been built on a pretty steep incline, but… looking out over it all is something else. She hasn’t been this high up in a long time.

The wind up here flicks her braid back and forth. She takes a deep breath, savoring the small hint of chill it brings – they’re not high enough to completely escape the heat of summer, but it’s just enough to pretend she could. The bustle of the streets is still echoing below, but it’s a little quieter now, muffled by the gusts of wind in her ears.

Buck has apparently disappeared, probably waiting for them down below – or hiding from Zela, who continues to keep watch a few feet away with her head tilted toward her new company. Actually, now that she’s paying attention she can hear her friend humming with nerves, and looks over to see Cranberi steadying herself on the top step, hands clenched around the nearest railing with her claws flexing as she looks around.

… Since when has she been scared of heights?

Cranberi glares at her. Whoops, she _might_ have said that out loud. “I’m not scared of heights,” she denies, “just… unstable buildings. That are also high up.”

She quirks an eyebrow and pointedly stomps on the edge of the platform. Cran twitches. “It feels fine,” Nami says, “we’ve climbed on things a lot older than this. Remember the bridges in Shebu?”

“I’d rather not.” She bares her teeth at the memory. “Getting across those things took so damn long…”

“And they were _fine_.”

“They were not fine! I specifically remember that bridge collapsing!”

Nami laughs. Only a little, though. “Jeez. I thought you liked heights?”

“I like,” she says, “being high up. I _like_ the concept of flying. But I do _not_ like falling from very high places with no way to, y’know, _not_ fall.”

“You could just go back down.” Cranberi shakes her head. Ugh, stubborn. “C’mon, Cranberi! At least look around- it’s so nice up here!”

Zela, very obviously an air genasi now that she’s a bit closer, moves to stand casually between Cranberi and the ledge closest to her. The claws retract. “Quite a sight, yeah?” She says, smiling at Nami. “It’s probably a bit predictable, but this is my favorite part of the Watch.”

She smiles back, eyes going to the horizon. “It’s beautiful.”

“That over there’s our resident wizard,” she says, pointing to a fairly far-off stone building in the forest. “Anytime a new batch of Wisps goes out, Maris puts up lights on the top of her place. It’s a whole system: red for when the delivery was ambushed, white for when it’s delayed… it gives us in town a minute’s head start on whatever’s coming from that direction.”

“Do you get ambushed often?”

Zela makes a face. “Sometimes. We might be known for our Songweavers, but folks in the black market _also_ know that _something_ about this town exports Hate Wisps. Maybe they don’t know what just yet, but that doesn’t stop them from trying to steal and sell the little bastards.”

“That’s horrible!” Not to mention… “Do you know how long ago the last ambush was?”

“Hm… A few weeks, maybe.” She shrugs. “Why?”

“Well…”

Nami looks to Cranberi, flicking her hand in the _‘tell’_ motion. Cran nods.

“Well, we were heading south when we found this place- uh, what was this town called? Lev…rui?” Zela nods, gesturing for her to continue. “But, um, before we got here, we were attacked by these… _things_. If you don’t mind, could you tell me what Hate Shadows look like?”

Zela gives Nami her full attention. “Hate Shadows are… thin. Tall. Boney. I’ve only seen a few over the years, but… I know for sure they have these long, curved claws, and their heads are like…”

“Like knives?”

She stops. “Yeah. Like knives.” Her gaze becomes chilled, eyes flicking from Nami to Cranberi and back again. “You ran into some out there? How many?”

“Only two. But we were maybe an hour’s walk from town?”

“Not even,” Cranberi chimes, still steadying herself on the stairs. “We were pretty close.”

Zela frowns. “So you were attacked twice in the journey. That’s definitely not—”

“Oh no, not twice,” Nami interrupts, “just the once. They both came at the same time.”

She freezes.

“… That,” she says after a moment, “that could be a problem. They were together?” Nami nods, but it only seems to wind the other woman up more. “Obviously together? They didn’t just reach you at the same time?”

“Together. From the same direction.” She confirms.

“Fuck.” Zela bites her lip, and the winds seem to stir a little faster. “Okay. _Fuck_. You two, follow me. We need to go see Boss.”

Damn. She _knew_ it would cause a panic.

Nami looks over the horizon once more and sighs, going to follow Zela and Cranberi back into the building proper. Just once, she thinks. Just once, she’d like to go somewhere and have absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happen.

She’d been too wrapped up in her thoughts before to notice how busy the Eastern Post really is. As soon as they’re all on the ground floor, she has to start paying keen attention to Zela’s stark white hair just to keep track of her in the small crowd of people changing shifts. There’s the musical clatter of song-woven armor as well as the regular noise of weapons being sharpened, and through a gap in bodies she manages to spot Buck hanging around the front door.

He frowns at her, confused, and scans the crowd. When he finds who he’s looking for, the frown only deepens. He pushes off the wall and starts following them through the post.

Once they’re out of the large front room it gets easier to catch up to Zela. Buck takes a few long strides and matches their pace quickly, continuing to frown down at all three of them.

“Zela,” he says, lacking the jovial tone he’s had all morning, “what’s goin’ on?”

“Taking them to Quin.”

He doesn’t question any further, instead choosing to follow the three into one of the hallways. After a few moments of walking, Zela pauses at a closed door.

She raises a hand. Hesitates, pointedly not looking at Buck. And knocks.

“Come in.”

Zela takes a breath and steps inside.

The first thing Nami notices is the papers. They’re hung from the ceiling, just like in every other building they’ve been in today, but instead of a calming blue braid they’re bound by a fiery red cord, as well as written on in silver rather than black ink. She still can’t really tell the difference between glyphs, but they seem odd as well.

One or two bookshelves are set against the walls, but most of the space is taken up by thin, square stone tiles, hung up like paintings on every inch of free space. They seem to be engraved, each one with two columns of text. She squints at the one nearest to the door and has to tear her eyes away.

Names. So many names. They line the walls, completely surrounding a fairly large desk placed at the back of the room. There’s a light-haired halfling sitting there, splitting their focus between the paper scattered around their workspace and Zela, standing in the center of the room with her hands folded behind her.

“Captain.”

The person that could only be Quin sighs and sets down their pen. “Zela. What’s happened?”

“These two,” Zela says, gesturing for her and Cranberi to come forward, “have witnessed Shadow activity less than five miles north. With the evidence, I believe they may have begun hunting in packs.”

Quin sits up silently, seeming to take in the information, and pins Nami with an intense stare. “I haven’t seen a Triton in these parts for a long while.”

She swallows. “No- um, Captain. We’re only passing through.”

“When did you arrive?”

“Last night.”

Their eyes narrow. “The attack happened last night as well?”

“Yes.”

“How far would you say it was from the town border?”

She bites her lip, thinking. Thankfully, Cranberi has a more solid answer. “Two or three miles. We were afraid there would be more Shadows, so we continued south until we saw lights.”

“Hm. Awful lucky, to have found us so easily.”

It sounds like an innocent statement, but they’re so laser-focused on this interrogation that Nami can’t help but think it’s just another hook. Cranberi nods faintly. “I… I’d like to believe I’ve somehow earned my goddesses’ favor. She’s the one that guided us here.”

“Your goddess?”

“Circidan, Captain,” she says. “Goddess of Luck.”

“Convenient,” they say, and Nami has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from making a face. “But I can’t think of what marauders would gain from encouraging extra security. Now, if you would share what you’ve told my Watchman?”

“… We were camping,” Nami says. “We heard one of the shadows scream at us before they got closer. They had some kind of fear effect, but we managed to get past it.”

“How many?”

“Only two.” She nods. “Like we told Zela, they came from the same direction at the same time and fought us together.”

Quin nods slowly. “And you killed them?”

Nami twitches, remembering the dark biting into her shoulder. “Yes.”

“They exploded,” Cran adds.

The Captain nods. After a few moments spent thinking, they continue. “I’m inclined to believe you,” they say, “as those _are_ distinctions that wouldn’t be made by people just hearing about the beasts.” They look to Zela and Buck. “I assume neither of you remembers relaying as such?”

Both of them shake their heads.

Quin closes their eyes. “And, again, I can’t imagine why thieves would invite extra security on their prizes. Thank you for the information. You two are free to leave.”

Nami doesn’t move.

“Respectfully, Captain,” she says, and she can _feel_ how much Cranberi wants to pull her away, “if it’s really as dangerous as it sounds, I’d like to help.”

“Respectfully, Nami Precip,” they say, and Nami feels a flash of fear, “if it’s as dangerous as I believe, there’s no part of me that wants your blood spilled in this town.”

Cranberi’s in front of her in a heartbeat, one hand on her sickle and acting as a physical barrier. “I suggest,” she snarls, “you keep that name quiet.”

“All the more reason for the two of you to leave.”

They catch Nami’s eye. “There are none of your family’s agents here now, but I cannot guarantee they’ll stay away for as long as exterminating whatever Shadows hiding in the wilderness will take. They’ll hear nothing of you from any of the people in this room,” they spare a glance to Buck and Zela, who nod slowly, “but the more you are seen, the more likely they are to notice when they _do_ come.”

She swallows. “How…?”

Quin’s lips quirk in a smile. “The coasts of your country are beautiful. I remember seeing a triton girl sitting on the rocks from time to time, but the locals never allowed me to approach. They all seemed very protective of you.” The smile falls. “And when your family’s men came looking for you here, they insisted I keep a poster so I would know you if you passed through.”

“But you won’t tell anyone, right?”

“No,” they say, “I won’t tell a soul. But you will not stay and fight. Understood?”

Damn it. _Damn it_. “Yes, Captain.”

“Good.” They perform the customary bow for visiting dignitaries. Nami bows back, completely on instinct, and hates herself for it. “Please, feel free to enjoy your time here. Come tomorrow morning, I will make sure your travelling needs are met before seeing you off.”

Cranberi nods and begins nudging her out of the room. “Thank you.”

And then they’re in the hallway. The door closes behind them.

“They knew me,” Nami breathes. “They’ve seen me before. There was a search _here_.”

“Come on,” Cran says. She offers an arm that Nami gratefully takes once again. “We’ll be able to think through this better once we have full stomachs.”

The fear comes back. She tugs Cran to a stop. “People will see me. I’m the only triton in town – the first triton visitor in ages!” And she’s told Eskel where she’s going, and at least four people know Cranberi’s name is connected to her now, and everyone she’s greeted so far knows what she looks like, knows that she’s travelling with a tabaxi, maybe even knows she’s _only_ with a tabaxi because no one else is _here—!_

Cranberi frowns and stops to consider this extremely valid point. “… Hold on. I have…”

She takes off her bag and lets it fall to the floor, rifling through, taking out nearly everything. Eliah’s book, Circidan’s texts, a few extra torches, a medicine kit. Finally, she finds a folded square of thick cloth that she shakes out into a long, cape-like cover with a hood.

It’s a bland forest green, but when Nami accepts it from her she feels how soft it is.

“There,” Cranberi says, waiting for her reaction. “That’ll be fine, right?”

Nami sets down her own bag and trident before throwing the cape around her shoulders and flipping the hood up. It smells like campfire smoke and covers her fins, hair, and tail perfectly. It’s big on her, but her friend comes forward to pull on some of the leather fastenings and somehow makes it better.

“The hood always bothered me,” she says while she adjusts it. “I don’t like things going on my ears, so I figured out a way to make it smaller. Glad it can still get some use. And I was thinking of giving it to Coco as a hand-me-down, so I put clips on the cape bottom, too.”

Today has been too emotional. She’s about to cry over a stupid cape. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cran says, clearly worrying. She packs up her scattered things carefully, putting the books in last before closing her bag and slinging it over her shoulder again. “You’re sure it’s okay now? Still have good movement?”

Nami tests it by getting her own bag and weapon situated again. The straps go over the vestments just fine, and she can still feel the cloth covering her tail, so she nods and tugs the hood closer around her face.

Too many things have happened today. Maybe they should just eat and leave.

But she sees the Shadows in her mind’s eye tearing through this watchpost and into town before she can say anything. Something twists in her gut – they have to go, but they can’t just _leave_. She wants to help, even if she wants to hide just as much, and the two feelings chase each other around in her stomach until she’s nauseous.

Cranberi pulls her through the building and out into the streets. She was so happy to see so many people earlier, but now it just makes her more nervous.

Gods, but she thought she was over these kinds of nerves. Where’s the confidence that saw her ditching that first thinly worn cloak in favor of clothes that she bought herself, with her own money, for the first time? The thought just makes her more frustrated.

Why did the Captain have to say something? She was passed this already! At least, she thought she was…

Her head ducks lower and lower with every minute they walk. Cranberi’s arm keeps steady.

Eventually she’s led into a different building. She smells alcohol and food; Loraline’s Bar. They go to a table near the back, and Cran leads her into a seat that has her hood covering her from anyone looking in through the front door. She squeezes her arm in thanks.

And then Cran goes to get their food. And she’s alone.

And it’s _so much worse_.

It occurs to her, just now, that she might be having a slight panic attack. She keeps her breathing soft and times it in her head even when it wants to hitch at the thought of how pathetic all this is. She gets one hint of her family’s influence and breaks down? What a joke.

Breathe. Breathe.

It would be better, she thinks, if they weren’t alone. She wants her other friends back. She _wants_ to listen to Kilgon’s thinly-veiled magic talk while Gonkil hops around the table, pecking at scraps. She wants to watch Freedon and Barnaby bicker about stupid things in sign, only knowing half the words they use but still finding it funny. Wants to help Kisia with the fasteners on her armor. Wants to listen to Joemin and Cranberi talk back and forth, getting more and more vague or ridiculous with every sentence.

Wants to feel secure in a large group of people she knows will defend her.

There’s a hand on her shoulder and she flinches, looking up. Cranberi frowns down at her and sets a bowl of stew on the table. “Eat. You’ll feel better.”

Not a word about how carefully controlled her breathing is or how much she must be shaking. She can feel how worried the other woman is for her, but Cran doesn’t say anything else. Maybe she’s ignoring it, giving her some small iota of privacy – but if she were, she wouldn’t be looking so closely. Nami feels pinned to her seat with her heartbeat in her ears.

And then she feels one of Cranberi’s knees knock against hers under the table, and suddenly she can feel the little tremors in her arms.

She breathes. Moves her hand.

Nami picks up her spoon and eats as her friend sits across from her, already feeling a little bit more real. Neither of them says anything until she’s done. The panic fades even if the nausea is still sitting in her gut, making it very hard to keep food down. She forces herself to manage.

Cranberi keeps slowly scanning the bar, ears twitching like they’re camping in the wild rather than eating in the middle of a town. There are a good few people here even without drinks being served, and the kitchen sees a steady flow of dishes going in and out. Her friend seems to examine each and every one of them with a steady eye.

Suddenly she twitches, a low noise in her throat. Nami turns to look.

Eskel stands a few feet away, carrying two steaming bowls of stew and looking nervous. “Um. Hey you two.”

“Eskel. Hey.” She smiles as welcoming as she can, but she can tell it probably doesn’t look good. “Are those for us?”

He nods, stepping forward to set the bowls down. Cranberi narrows her eyes but stops making noise, and Eskel steps back again, waving a hand. “It’s on the house. Give me a shout if you need anything, okay?”

He’s looking at her. Nami pulls her hood in tighter. “Thank you.”

Eskel hesitates.

“Thank you, Eskel.” Cran says harshly.

He leaves.

Nami picks at her second bowl. “… He’s a sweet kid.”

“Hm.”

“You should be nicer to him.”

Cranberi sighs and sticks some stew in her mouth. “I know. It’s not his fault.”

They continue eating.

“So…” Nami says after a long period of silence, “what do we do?”

“We don’t have much choice.” Cran scowls into her bowl. “We rest today and head out tomorrow morning, like we planned.”

That image of the watchtower plagued by shadows flashes in her head again. “You don’t want to help?”

“Of course I want to help,” she says bitterly, “but… fuck. I know how bad it sounds, but I want us to be safe more. And if everyone else were here, yeah, I’d be all for staying around, but there’s only two of us.”

“So you’re not even going to try.”

Cranberi flinches. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“You _know_ what.” She looks away. “I’m not trying to be an asshole, okay? I promise. But we’re only two people. Even if we did stick around, the Captain knows you. I don’t trust them not to sell us out no matter what they say. We already have a goal, and it’s getting _back_ to the tower and _back_ to everyone else. We don’t lose anything by just… moving on.”

“… I’m not going.”

“Nami.”

Her jaw clenches. “I’m not going.”

Cranberi examines her. Takes in whatever expression she has on her face. They’ve run into this sort of roadblock before, one where Nami sticks to something and Cran tries desperately to talk her out of it. It never gets easier. Both of them always walk away feeling frustrated and a little guilty.

But that doesn’t mean she’s going to budge.

Cran speaks slowly. “You can’t just Charm me into it this time, you know. Even if you did, the spell doesn’t last long.”

Nami is silent. Hopefully she won’t need to go that far.

“… I’ll stay on my own then,” she says, and gulps down her panic at the thought. If Cranberi leaves, she really will be alone – dangerously, terrifyingly alone in a town where anyone could be working to haul her back to Sojolo like some sort of criminal.

If Cran leaves, if she _is_ taken, would they even look for her? Or would Linan think she ran with whatever gold she’s earned, would Cranberi assume she’d gone back to being on the run and stopped bothering to worry?

Nami is silent, buzzing with what-ifs and an undercurrent of fear, but Cranberi groans after just a few moments. “Ugh… fine. Fine, okay? We’ll… we’ll do fucking _something_. But I am not staying for more than a few days.”

She breathes a sigh of relief. “Got it.”

“You’re sure you want to risk it?” She asks, clearly doubtful. “The more we hang around, the more noticeable we’ll be.”

“I know.”

“And if someone from your family really does show up?”

“We’ll run.” She says, nodding decisively. Just her and Cran won’t be enough to take on a large search party, but they can certainly outrun one. She has practice.

“Not fight?”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone…”

Cran hums. “Still your countrymen, huh?” She nods again, getting a disbelieving head shake in return. “Never really got that, to be honest. I guess ‘loyalty to the crown’ is kind of built-in for you, but I never cared that much. Or at all.”

Nami shrugs. “They’re still… I mean, I still love them. And I love my people enough to not want them to suffer.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“No, it’s,” Cran holds up a hand, “it’s nothing. Just real noble, that’s all. You’re definitely a better person than me when it comes to this stuff.”

She smiles for the first time since they walked into the building. “Thank you. You’re a good person, too.”

“I’m a cleric,” she scoffs. “It kind of comes with the job.”

“Say you’re a good person.”

“What- why?”

“Say it!” Nami leans over the table to poke at Cranberi’s arm. “Say it. Say you’re a good person.”

“… I’m a good person,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Happy?”

She grins. “Maybe. Say it again.”

“This is stupid. Don’t think I don’t know where you’re going with this.”

“Just do it!”

“I’m a good person.” She deadpans. “I’m a good person. I’m a good person. Is that enough repetitions for you? Do I have to write it down, too?”

“If it’ll help you remember.”

Finally, Cranberi laughs. “You’re a dork.”

“Mhm.” She finishes off her food. It’s worked wonders for her mood, but she still can’t help but stew on their situation; where could they go from here?

She’s made Cranberi stay – she’ll feel guilty about that later – and the Watch Captain wants them gone before whatever they’re planning for actually happens. They’re not going, of course, so the two of them might need to lay low for a bit and make Quin think they’ve left.

But other than that?

They don’t have that much room to work. Even if there are no agents here, she doesn’t want to be seen any more than necessary. They don’t have that many allies, either – maybe Loraline and Eskel would help out, but Buck and Zela seem pretty loyal to the Watch.

Okay. Narrow it down. Start simple.

Whatever they do will have to happen at night. If they’re going around town, that cuts down their chances of being recognized.

Alright, now what can they do?

Help the Watch, maybe. But she doesn’t know _how_ , just that she wants to. Ugh, why does trying to help people have to be so frustrating! She doesn’t know anything about the defenses here – she barely knows how defenses worked back in Sojolo, and she evaded them every time she wanted some peace and quiet! Which was a lot!

One wandering princess isn’t a hostile force, though. She needs to think. If there are packs of Shadows out there, if those Shadows are really as smart as Buck said they were, where would they attack first?

_“Damned thing has three options: left, right, and up. It goes up, it’s right in the middle o’ town – sure, it’ll get a few hits in on some unlucky people, but we got ways to take care of it.”_

They might not go directly into town, which leaves either side of the ravine. But the stations on either end are probably the most patrolled just because of how many Shadows try to pass through. What’s weakest – the towns’ regular defenses on the borders, or the stations in the ravine? What would an invading force go through first?

It hinges on how many Shadows are hiding in the forest.

… How many Shadows are in the forest?

_“One person drops a Wisp jar in a room full of ‘em waitin’ to be disposed, and the town’s done for. So we ship ‘em off to one of our outta-town locals.”_

_“Do you know how long ago the last ambush was?”_

_“Hm… A few weeks, maybe. Why?”_

Oh boy.

“For staying…” she starts, and Cranberi looks tired. “I think we should try helping the Watch. Even if the Captain doesn’t want us here.”

She nods. “It’s your call.”

“But I don’t know what they’re planning on.” Nami bites her lip. “You’re good at tactics, right? Where should we go first?”

A sigh. Cran closes her eyes in thought, tapping a claw against the edge of the table. “We could walk around, see where all the bases are,” she says. “I’m pretty sure there’s a storage building for Hate Wisps, just based on how Buck said the process works, but I’m _also_ pretty sure if we try going anywhere near it we’ll just end up getting kicked out sooner.”

“Storage?”

“Mhm. If there’s a shipment going out only every once in a while instead of every day, then they need someplace to store the ones they pull until the Wisps can be, uh, ‘disposed’.”

She snorts. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Listen,” Cran says lightly, “far as I can tell, Wisps are still living beings that have coherent thought, so they should seriously just say ‘kill’. Fuckin’ _disposed_. Sure. Anyway, there’s got to be a storage place for them somewhere, and I’d say that’s probably the place that needs most protection.”

Nami frowns. “What about the town?”

“We can’t protect a whole town just between us,” she says. “I get that you want to, but it is actually, _physically_ impossible. We have- what, how many spell slots all together? Fourteen?” Cran counts on her fingers. “Fourteen, plus Cantrips. Leave the town to the Watch, okay? They’ve been protecting the place just fine up until now. The best way we can do the most good is to pick a small area and keep it safe.”

Nami makes a face, but she can see the logic in it. She can’t help but… “Gods, I wish Barnaby was here.”

Cranberi looks away. “You and me both. This would be much easier if we were with everyone.”

“And you two could do that cool Thunderwave thing again and just—boom! Problem solved.”

“With you, Kisia, and Kilgon just picking off the edges,” she smiles, “and Joemin and Freedon shooting the stragglers. No idea how many we’d have to fight like that, but I feel like it could get us pretty far.”

Nami smiles back. “If Freedon aimed right.”

Cranberi barks out a startled laugh. “If Freedon aimed right. Oh goddess, I keep forgetting how many times he’s almost shot us.”

She giggles. “We shouldn’t tease him when he’s not here.”

“Boo.” Cran huffs back, “like he wouldn’t go ‘hey fuck you guys I’m trying my best’ and just put up with it until we’re done. He’s got a sense of humor.”

Nami forcibly remembers their first mission in Kath, just after Joemin and Kilgon joined their little group. They’d run into one of Circidan’s signs – the very first one, now that she thinks about it – and Cranberi had gone to find a quiet corner to pray in after telling them all not to mess with it. Of course, she and Joemin tried to do exactly that when Freedon managed to trip the taller man just short of his goal. She nearly lost it when he started dancing in victory.

“Unlike Joemin,” Cranberi continues, “who’s basically a brick fucking wall.”

“Hey, don’t be mean!” She protests, thinking of all the times Joemin’s made her laugh so hard she cried. “He’s got a great sense of humor!”

“I’ve never even heard him make a joke.”

“He was joking the first time we even met him,” she says, “don’t you remember?”

Cran pauses, thinking. “I remember him trying to ‘pay me back’ with some sort of fish, which you ate.”

“And he said you were basically turning down a marriage proposal when you didn’t take it,” she laughs.

“I’m _pretty sure_ he was not joking,” Cran smiles, “he was just painfully awkward and wanted to get away from all of us. Honestly it’s more funny that it didn’t work.”

“He calls Whisper his child all the time!”

“C’mon, at this point Whisper’s everyone’s child.”

“Not _mine_.” She laughs. “Whisper’s really cute, but you and Joemin have shared custody. Even Barnaby doesn’t worry about them as much as you two.”

“He still isn’t joking though; I am hearing no jokes.”

“What about all those times he’s talked about boats with Kilgon?”

Cranberi snorts out a laugh despite herself. “Okay, that’s more Kilgon’s joke, but I see your point. Goddess, the boats. ‘Different colored boats mean different things’.”

“He’s not wrong.”

“I’m pretty sure he is, actually.”

Nami smiles teasingly. “Hey, who’s seen the most boats here, hm? I say Kilgon is absolutely right about all kinds of boats.”

“You can only use a few different boats a day,” Cran quotes.

“Some boats take a long time to start boat-ing,” Nami quotes back from memory. That specific one had gotten burned in her brain after she’d almost passed out laughing while Kilgon was going between explaining how he summons Gonkil and how some ‘boats’ take longer to ‘start up’.

Cranberi smiles. “If a Mommy Boat and a Daddy Boat love each other very much…”

They both have to take a second after that one.

Nami sighs out the rest of her laughter and folds her arms, resting her head on the table. “We’ll get back to them. As soon as this is done.”

“We still have a while to go.” Cran relaxes back in her seat. “We might not make it back before the next mission.”

“They’ll wait for us.”

She frowns. “I’m not so sure. Guess there’s no way of telling until we get there, though.”

“So don’t worry so much about it!” Nami rolls her eyes. “Besides, even if we do get kicked out… this was a nice break, right?”

“It beats sleeping in monster-infested forest.”

“Cranberi.”

Cran shakes her head. “Yes, fine. This was a nice break. The town is interesting, and nobody even wants to kill us, which is… a pretty definite plus, in my book. Hopefully we won’t piss the Captain off too much.”

“I feel like Quin’s a nice person,” Nami says, thinking back. “They just don’t know how to do it right.”

“Seriously? You’re defending them?”

She doesn’t say how much Quin and Cranberi remind her of each other, but she considers it. If she had stumbled on this town with a blonde halfling Quin and managed to get dragged to a tabaxi Captain Cranberi… she can see it clear enough. Especially with how Cran gets with people she doesn’t know that well; all forced politeness and ominous warnings. What a nerd.

In the real world, Nami shrugs. “It’s just a feeling I get.”

“Uh-huh.”

The conversation peters off, both of them getting a little lost in the moment. It really has been a nice break, even if they’re not as secure as they are in Linan’s tower.

Nami catches herself missing the easy company she has with Kisia. They don’t talk much – or, when they do, it’s usually Nami filling the silence with anything that pops in her head, with only occasional input from Kisia – but it’s nice. Simple. Comfortable. Despite how imposing she looks, Kisia has the sort of attitude that could make anywhere feel familiar.

She looks around the bar. People have filtered out a lot since they got here – now there’s only one other seat taken. A human man lounges idly at the table closest to the door as he reads, one hand resting on his book and the other stirring his stew. Eskel and Loraline are both at the bar itself, talking quietly, both of them laughing once or twice as the time passes. The streets outside are just as loud as they were this morning, shouts and conversations and the rolling of wagon wheels.

Nami imagines a flash of Shadows interrupting the scene and turns away, eyes glued to the table.

“We’ll have to figure out where everything is at night,” she says in an effort to get back on track. Cranberi looks up and nods. “And find a way to make the Captain think we’re gone in the morning.”

“We have a few hours,” Cran says, seeing the daylight out of the front windows. “Maybe we could... I don’t know, get more information before starting this? I feel like we don’t have anything really settled yet.”

“It sounds like a good idea.” Nami tilts her head, hesitant. “Where would we go, though?”

She’s silent for a moment. Thinking. “Maybe Buck would help us.”

“But Buck is in the Watch!”

“Which means he’ll know which spots are least defended.”

“We can’t just ask, he’ll figure us out.”

Cranberi grimaces. “Well, the only other option is Zela, and I don’t… she seems nice, sure, but I don’t know how trustworthy she is.”

“I don’t know, Cranberi…” She bites her lip. “Do you really think Buck wouldn’t report it, if he knew? I mean, the people here are nice and all, but…”

“We’d be taking even more of a risk with anyone else.” Cran looks to the window again. “Besides, it’ll be night before we know it. If we really want to be ready to do… whatever it is we’re doing by then, we’ll need rest. We’ve got no more room to work.”

It’s true. The day has been filled with excitement, but with as tired as Nami already is from the amount of emotional whiplash she’s been through, she’ll need as much sleep as she can get before night falls. They have an hour or two at most if they really want to be prepared.

She hears someone enter the bar and sees Cranberi straighten so fast that it almost looks like a flinch. “Buck!”

Buck?

Nami turns to look. Sure enough, Buck locks eyes with them at the door and makes his way over. He gives a half-hearted wave to Loraline and Eskel and sits down beside Nami, easily shielding her from the entire left section of the building.

“Figured this was where you’d go,” he says, still sounding just as serious as he was in Quin’s office despite his welcoming tone. “Lora makes some fine stew, and you ladies looked like you needed it.”

Despite literally just talking about this, Nami and Cranberi share a glance. Goals don’t usually just walk up to them like this. The ease of it certainly isn’t unwelcome, but it’s also _extremely_ odd. “We did,” Nami starts. “Or, well, I did. We were… we were just talking about finding you again. Pay you for the tour?”

He smiles. “Well, not like I’d say no, but I got some other things I’d like to get out there. If you ladies don’t mind none?”

Cranberi’s eyes narrow. “Quietly, please.”

“As a mouse,” he swears. “Now, miss Nami?”

She makes a face. “Yes?”

“I don’t rightly know what kinda trouble you’ve gotten in, an’ I don’t need to know,” Buck says. “But you seem like a sweet girl, and it don’t feel right to let you go without askin’: do you need any help? Any at all?”

She blinks, startled. “Wh- no! We were actually going to ask if _you_ did!”

“Me?” It’s his turn to be surprised, leaning back in a chair that’s just a little too small for his frame. “Now what’s got that idea in your head?”

“We mean the Watch,” Cranberi continues for her, and Nami nods along. “We’re just as worried about the…” she looks around the near-empty bar, “ _things_ out there as the Captain is. We want to help.”

He hums. “Now that’s real kind o’ you, but uh, it’ll be a bit hard helpin’ with only a day o’ work. Best you two just look after yourselves.”

They’re silent. Cran gives Nami a look.

“Um… about that.” Nami grips the seams of her- Cranberi’s- cloak. “We. Um. We don’t want to leave if- if you guys might end up… in a bad situation,” she says, extremely aware of the other people in the room. It might not seem like they’re paying attention, but it feels like they can hear every word regardless. “So we were going to ask what we can do. Without leaving.”

Buck looks at her. Then at Cranberi.

“Huh.” He rubs his thumb along his chin and goes silent.

The two women look nervously at each other. She has faith that Buck won’t attack them – wanting to help could never be a reason for malice, especially not with him – but she feels her fingers itch for her trident anyway. It’s a reaction born pretty reliably from a long string of misunderstandings and outright hate that they’ve run into during their missions, but she holds herself back. The people here are nice. Buck seems trustworthy, and even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t start a fight in the middle of Loraline’s bar.

Right?

Finally, Buck leans forward onto the table.

“I’ll be sure to tell the Captain that you two got spooked an’ ran after all that in the Watch,” He says, nodding. “Can’t find hide or hair o’ you nowhere near, and Loraline says you checked out right after eatin’.”

Nami breathes deeply and feels the twitch in her fingers die. “Thank you.”

“I ain’t doin’ nothin’ for you two, remember?” Buck smiles and pats the top of her hood, “but you’re welcome.”

“Buck?” He turns to Cran, and she fidgets with the string of her necklace. “Is there anywhere we _absolutely_ shouldn’t go?”

He thinks on it. “Hm. Now… while you’re leavin’, I’m sure you _won’t_ take the west side o’ town out,” he says, nodding. “You won’t be able to see the ol’ West Watch tower, and you won’t be here to see the last few Wisps gettin’ carted out the mine and to the buildin’ next to it.”

The information gets burned into her memory. West side. The building next to the old stone tower they had seen this morning.

The storage room, just like Cranberi had said.

“The next disposal is tomorrow at noon,” he continues. “Watch’ll be on high alert, and most of us’ll have escort duty. I’d be much obliged if you _didn’t_ keep an eye out. After that… I’ll keep track of things. See where you might be missed.”

They both relax into their seats, grateful at having a solid goal. “Thank you,” Nami repeats.

“Don’t worry yourselves too much.” Buck smiles down at them. “Odds are, it’ll be a while before the Captain gets us organized. Last I hear, we’re goin’ out in parties to thin out the, uh, ‘wildlife’ out there. Should be smooth sailin’ here in town.”

Cranberi nods. “It’s just as much for our peace of mind as it is for yours,” she says. “We’re happy to help, at least for a little while.”

“Ah, you two’re on your own journey.” He lets out a gusty sigh, seeming a little thoughtful. “Been a while since I’ve been more’an a few miles from town. I’ll speak for all o’ us when I say we’re glad to have ya’.” Buck nudges Nami a bit, winking. “Even Quin. They won’t say as much, but I got to thinkin’ on the way over that y’alls fightin’ spirit got ‘em a bit.”

She perks up a little. “Really?”

“Sure! Folks don’t get to be Captain o’ the Watch by bein’ bad judges o’ character.” He smirks. “I oughta know; that shiny desk is mine, once Quin’s tired of it.”

It takes a moment for the words to register, but when they do Nami feels like laughing. “Buck! That’s amazing!”

Even Cranberi’s eyes crinkle. “Congratulations.”

“Congratulations!” She cheers. “You’ll be fantastic at it- and you love the Watch so much already!”

Now that she’s looking, she can see the genuine happiness in his eyes when he blusters a bit, smiling all the while. “Love the Watch,” he says quietly. “Love the town. It’s hard to live here so long without carin’ for the people. The cause.” Buck clears his throat. “Anyways. We don’t need too much help, but since you’re offerin’… if you could do me that favor, I’d be much obliged.”

“Of course!”

Cranberi nods along with her. “We’ll be happy to.”

“An’ I’m happy to hear it.” He smiles and goes to stand. “You two best not be strangers, now. Come an’ gimme a shout when you’re set to leave for real; I’ll be sure to gather some nice souvenirs to see you on your way.”

On a whim, Nami grabs his hand just before he turns to leave. “Thank you, Buck. Really.”

He just laughs. “Aw, but you sure know how to make a man feel special. I’ll be seein’ you two.”

“See you later!”

Cran waves. “Seeya.”

As soon as he’s out of hearing range, Nami feels a soft kick at her ankle and grins at her friend. Cranberi rolls her eyes so hard it looks like she wants to roll her entire head with it, but after however long they’ve known each other, she knows this look intimately. So she bounces in her seat and says “they _like_ me.”

“Shut up.”

“They like me.” Her smile grows as Cran looks more annoyed. “Buck and Eskel and maybe even Quin! They _like_ me.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Aw,” she mocks, “are you jealous? Don’t worry, I still like you more.”

That earns her a harder kick. Worth it. “You’d better.”

Nami looks back to Buck, having been caught by Loraline and Eskel on his way out and now leaning against the bar while the two humans talk at him. The mother-and-son pair are shoving each other lightly for his attention, using him to settle some kind of argument – she doesn’t know who Charles E Chees is, and she doesn’t want to know. “Once we’re back with everyone, we have to visit again.”

“We will,” she says, sounding put up with having to repeat the topic. “C’mon, if we want to be rested for tonight we’d better turn in.”

Nami smiles and gets up, following Cranberi to the stairway. “Coming!”

\---

It’s been quiet all night – the good kind of quiet, when nothing is happening. Nami and Cranberi have set up on a rooftop near the tower, crowded against another building so they won’t be seen by the Watch lookouts. It’s warm, the platform still holding that last little bit of heat from the summer sun, and the wind is comfortable and cool up here.

Nami keeps her eyes peeled. With Cranberi checking the perimeter every thirty minutes or so, she’s the one responsible for looking after the storage building itself – she’s offered to switch jobs, alleviate the boredom, but Cran said having to light her way through the route she’s taking would give both of them away. Which… fair point.

So she watches.

Thankfully the town itself is pretty well-lit. She has a clear line of sight on the building, and the last Wisp deliveries from the mine had been hours ago, just like Buck said. She got to see those fascinating sets of armor in full for the first time – the diving helmet with tubes leading to a separate pack (presumably filled with air containers), the huge gauntlets that shifted and clanged like bells, and the chest and back plates completing the uniform. One or two of the miners had been hauling pickaxes and tongs along with them. She only wishes she’d gotten a better look.

The jars they carried were covered with cloth, handled by Sowers whose armor-less hands couldn’t crack the glass, but she knew what they were. The Hate Wisps. Little Shadows, ready to break free and kill everything in sight. The jars weren’t much to look at – a little anti-climactic, honestly – but those are the things they’ve set out to guard.

Even so, just a few hours in and Nami can feel her focus coming and going – she doesn’t want to think about how badly off she’d be if they didn’t get any rest beforehand. She actually realized, just before they left the inn, that they never did talk to Eskel about the sound strips.

Something to do later, for sure. But right now she has to keep her focus.

A familiar sound whispers up from the nearest windowsill, and Nami turns to it. “Anything?”

Cranberi hauls herself up onto the roof and shakes her head, coming to sit next to her – and to steal her waterskin. “Nothing. Here?”

“Nothing,” she echoes back quietly.

Conversation topics ran low after the fourth or fifth time Cran reported in. Now they both just sit in silence, watching.

“Damn it,” the other woman whispers. Nami looks to see her shaking the now-empty waterskin and nearly laughs at how hard she’s pouting. “Sorry. I’ll fill it on the next go-around.”

“Don’t you have your own?”

“Empty.”

Nami swats at her. “Why didn’t you fill it then!”

“I didn’t realize!” She whispers back, flailing the container in her direction. “I’m gonna fill them both, don’t worry about it.”

“… Tritons need water to survive, you know. You’re actually killing me.”

“Everyone needs water to survive, and also you’re full of shit.”

Nami forces herself to breathe through her laughter so it’s not as loud. “You’re no fun.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

They settle. Nami stretches a bit, having been sitting cross-legged for the last few minutes, and Cran sits at the edge of the roof with one leg dangling down. Guess she’s not as scared of heights when she’s on a stable building rather than an ‘unstable’ tower.

She’s actually still a little surprised at that. The heights thing. Nami had honestly thought Cran would be scared of much less normal things than heights – especially considering how in love she is with the concept of flying. She could tell that much practically from the first day they met, when Cranberi was so excited to talk to Uloun about summoning her wings that she forgot there were other people in the room. Not to mention how much she loves Gonkil.

Everyone loves Gonkil, though. Funky little bird. Finding out she’d built a nest in Kilgon’s front pocket had been the best thing that happened that week.

She keeps watching. Thinking. Watching. Thinking.

There’s no telling how much time passes, but eventually it’s enough for Cran to decide to go through another circuit. She gets up just as quietly as she sat down and taps Nami twice, just as a little signal. A wordless ‘goodbye’ and ‘I’ll be back soon’. It’s sweet.

**_POP_ **

She startles, nearly falling off the roof. The sky flashes blood red.

They both blink up at it for a few confused seconds.

It’s not an attack, just… lights. Like a flare, hanging over the eastern side of town just above the ravine and slowly trailing down. Like fireworks in slow motion. They’re beautiful, but… where did they come from?

Nami stands just as the yelling starts.

The Watch tower they’ve been hiding from the entire night is suddenly full of activity. She looks up just in time to watch a similar light be thrown into the western sky by a panicked-looking Watchman, who immediately retreats back down into the base. Lights flicker on in all the buildings, people peek out of their windows, some wide awake, some groggy and rubbing at their eyes. Unfamiliar faces trudge out into the street to see what disturbed the peace.

Wait. She remembers…?

_“Anytime a new batch of Wisps goes out, Maris puts up lights on the top of her place. It’s a whole system: red for when the delivery was ambushed, white for when it’s delayed… it gives us in town a minute’s head start on whatever’s coming.”_

Is this—?

The first scream goes up so harshly that it rattles her eardrums.

It’s like a switch has been flipped. People swarm like ants, some going back into their homes to slam the doors shut while others bolt to the Watch tower.

Windows and shutters close. Somewhere in the building they’re standing on, Nami can hear the frantic noises of a woman waking children before the sound abruptly cuts out. She turns to Cranberi, still so confused, but pauses when she sees her friend staring out into the wilderness.

Nami looks.

Its all just pitch black. The light of the town doesn’t reach that far.

“Cranberi?”

Cran growls, sounding feral. “Shadows.”

“ _Already_? But—” The other woman ignores her, starting to climb down. “Cranberi!”

“We have to go!”

She looks out into the dark, still not seeing anything. She doesn’t need to.

Watchmen pour out of the tower as they climb down, but Nami’s starting to think getting found out is the least of their problems right now. Orders are being shouted, the ringing of bells as armor plates move. When she looks around, she sees more than a few Sowers as well, wearing leather armor over their light tan clothing and carrying weapons as well as staves and wands.

They drop down onto solid ground. The lights of town seem to be brighter than ever now, almost as bright as day. Fires are being lit, torches passed around and balls of light magic sent floating up above their heads.

A shriek.

Weapons bristle. Cranberi pulls out her sickle. Nami’s eyes are glued to the dark.

She remembers this part. The scream. And then came—

The fear.

The eyes. She can see them now.

Screams- people’s screams- sound as they step out of the black of the forest. Their eyes are stark white against their pitch-black bodies and she feels that same fear effect wash over her. She grits her teeth and grabs her trident even as some of the Watchmen immediately run the other direction – she can’t blame them.

There are too many eyes.

The monsters step into the light of the town, and there are _too many_.

She doesn’t have time to count them before they charge. The first Watchman falls with a terrified whimper at the very first strike of the leading Shadow’s claw.

The Watch presses forward, weapons raised and shouting in defiance. The Shadows meet them.

If her head were a little clearer, she’d think the sound these two small armies make as they clash would be burned in her brain forever.

She would be right.

Armor clangs like bells and then _tears_ , the sound that brought her so much joy and curiosity before becoming a strangled cry, a last screaming note of a desperate song before it goes quiet. Bodies thump against each other, Shadows plowing into the line of defenders like water on rocks. The slashes are quick and efficient, nightmarish and devastating, but the remaining Watch doesn’t give their ground willingly.

They hold form as much as they’re able to. Weapons slice through the darkness, flickering in and out as they go, and everywhere they clash a Shadow is injured. Even from this far, the noise is almost unbearable – shouts, screams, snarls, shrieks, even dying breaths as she sees a Watchman thrown from the body of the fight. Limp. Bloody.

And gone.

And Nami has killed before. It’s hard, to go through the deep and dark of the world without getting blood on her hands, and she knows it gets even more deep and dark than what she’s seen. She doesn’t like getting caught up in the guilt of her actions, but she has felt it. Feels it, in the back of her mind. On the lonely nights when even Joemin is asleep. She wonders about the lives she’s taken, what they were like before she cut them down.

Even for a killer like her, this slaughter is sickening.

So when the Sowers begin firing spells into the fray, she joins them.

**_[17 – 11]_ **

**_[19]_ **

The first magic missile hits one of the Shadows on the edges, where she knows the blast radius won’t reach anyone. All three darts carve into vital areas – head, neck, chest – and it explodes with a burst of air and darkness that hits nothing.

Cranberi holds up a hand.

**_[18]_ **

**_[5]_ **

Another Shadow goes up in flames inside the crowd. As the fire dies, it doesn’t seem to have done much – but earning its attention gives one of the Watch a chance to slice through its leg with one shining sword, and it falls. She can’t see the explosion through the crowd.

That’s not the only attention they earn.

Three Shadows break away from the main fight and rush toward them, immediately set upon by multiple Sowers finding a clear shot. One, two sacred flames from other casters consume them, but they don’t even slow.

Thankfully, she and Cran have done this before.

**_[17 – 14 – 11 – 11 – 3]_ **

**_[16]_ **

Magic missile never fails her. She hits the lead Shadow, one of the ones already hit with flame, and turns it to dust in an instant while it’s still far enough that the force its death expels doesn’t reach them. The other two rocket forward to contest her, but Cranberi snarls and moves before they can.

**_[20]_ **

**_[10]_ **

The next Shadow goes up in divine fire once again, clawing at itself in anger. Pieces of the dark flake off as the light fades. It’s still standing.

It swings at Cranberi as soon as it’s close enough, but she swings _back_. Catching its claws in the arch of her sickle, she bats away the attack just in time to face the next one.

But she can’t move fast enough.

**_[-3]_ **

A claw scrapes along the meat of her arm, leaving a fat line of surface-level darkness. Nami feels her eyes narrow, but the things are too close for magic missile now – they’ll explode in their faces, and there are more Shadows they need to kill after these. Scowling, she points her trident at the one that caught Cran.

**_[14]_ **

**_[6]_ **

She thrusts forward as soon as she has the space to do so and stabs into its arm, using the point to push it away. It sinks in like a sewing pin into cloth, easily finding purchase and going right through.

**_[…?]_ **

It scratches at the injury – something so light it could’ve been inconsequential, barely a dent, but with the way it reacts…

 **_~~[6]~~ _ ** **_[10]_ **

It seems odd.

No time to think about it.

**_[8]_ **

Cranberi follows her attack up with a lash of her sickle but the damn thing twists out of the way. Her friend curses, steps forward to follow, but the second Shadow takes its place immediately.

Cran’s learned her lesson, though, and steps back as those deadly claws come down again. Nami readies her trident for an opening.

**_[16]_ **

**_~~[7]~~ _ ** **_[11]_ **

Once Cran takes another step back, preparing to charge forward, she thrusts and gives the beast another barely-there scrape - against the lower leg this time. The thing screeches and backpedals only to have that leg buckle underneath it.

Cranberi makes short work of it after that.

**_[23]_ **

**_~~[3]~~ _ ** **_[7]_ **

A quick slash of her sickle in the first place she can reach – the joint of its shoulder – and it goes down. They both flinch back, ready for the explosion, but…

It never comes.

The thing simply crumbles to dust.

They get over their shock quickly when the last Shadow tries another angry swipe at Cran. Nami’s never claimed to be the best fighter in the group, or even the best strategist, but she’s starting to think… so she tilts her head and aims, not for the throat or the head, but for one of its knife-like legs.

**_[13]_ **

**_[6?]_ **

Another stab of the trident goes into the dark mass. Another screech, another angry examination of the injury.

 **_~~[6]~~ _ ** **_[10]_ **

Another death.

No dust is thrown at them, no explosion to shield themselves from. It just dies.

Cranberi kicks at the ashes. “What the fuck…?”

Another scream, louder than the rest, and her attention is captured by a Sower standing at the storage door desperately battling off two more Shadows. The corner of her skirt is smoking, her only weapons a lit torch and a dagger that’s seen better days, but she deals cut after cut after cut on the monsters that surround her.

On the arms. The shoulders. The legs. All places that shouldn’t be as crippling as they end up.

Cranberi grabs at the pole of her trident. “You saw, right?”

She swallows and nods. “Non-lethal does more damage.”

“We’ll have to go in close,” she says and lets go. “Be careful.”

“You too.”

**_[20 – 17 – 11 – 11 – 9]_ **

The Sower has to dodge one more strike before they can get there, ducking under one boney arm as it sails past, hitting it with her torch to keep it overhead. The fire bites at it and the force of the blow makes sparks fly as she loses her grip.

The woman pays it no mind, short black hair whipping against her cheek, and grips her dagger with both hands.

Nami angles her trident downward.

**_[16]_ **

**_~~[3]~~ _ ** **_[7]_ **

The tip stabs through the thing’s lower leg.

**_[12]_ **

Cranberi tries to cut into the second Shadow’s shoulder, but it grabs the hilt of her sickle just as it’s coming down and throws her aside. The Sower thrusts forward with her knife and lodges it into the nearest monster’s claw.

The thing crumbles harmlessly, cracks stemming from the injury until there’s nothing left.

A swipe at Cranberi. She ducks backward, bending her knees so she doesn’t lose her balance.

**_[14]_ **

**_~~[6]~~ _ ** **_[10]_ **

Nami takes care of it with a single stab to the arm. It dissolves.

“You two!” The unnamed Sower shouts at them. “If Hate gets in here, we’re done for! Either guard the door or get the explosives!”

She gestures to the ongoing battle. Specifically, to a fallen Watchman cradling a small metal chest in their limp arms - it looks like they died running in this direction. With how much ground the Watch is losing, the body will be in the very middle of the battle in the next few seconds.

It’s like Cranberi doesn’t even stop to think. She’s running as soon as she spots the chest, but by the time Nami tries to follow there’s already another Shadow trying to gain entrance.

She forces herself to turn away. To trust her friend.

**_[17 – 11- 6]_ **

**_[21]_ **

**_~~[5]~~ _ ** **_[9]_ **

Too low of a thrust, but it works just the same. The tip of her trident goes through whatever qualifies as a foot on the thing and roots it to the ground. The Sower swings at the other leg fast enough for it to be instinct and leaves a gaping absence of dark. By the way it’s crumbling, one more hit should do it.

It gives one last swing before it dies, practically flailing its arm in the air. Nami scoffs at it and _twists_.

She doesn’t look at it as it dies, too busy searching for Cran. There’s a moment her heart freezes and she can’t see anyone familiar – and then she sees her friend at the body, tugging its arm away from the chest and letting her hand linger on its throat. Nami doesn’t even have the seconds she needs to shout _‘stop checking dead bodies and get over here’_ before Cran has to duck under an errant sword strike and goes sprawling, container in her arms.

She has to slide under one more strike from a nearby Shadow, but she makes it, barely, and quickly joins up with them to present the box to the Sower.

She takes it and rushes into the building without a word.

There’s no telling how much time setting up the explosives will take. Nami doesn’t even know if they have time – surely the other woman will want to wait before setting everything off, right?

Four Shadows run for them now, all trying to push through and into the store-room, screeching as they do. She feels the fear they’re attempting to wedge in her heart and crushes it mercilessly – if anything’s going to make her hesitate, it’s the gash on Cranberi’s arm. A few minutes have passed and it only seems to be getting worse; gods, she _knew_ those things have some sort of poison.

**_[20 - 16 – 14 – 12 - 11 – 3]_ **

The lead Shadow darts in close and swings at her.

**_[-6]_ **

She’s too slow. It catches her arm where she’s gripping her weapon for dear life and sends her stumbling, shaking her hand out. Nami doesn’t need to look to know there’s darkness in her skin now – it bites at her, making it that much harder to hold her trident.

She doesn’t have a choice.

**_[4]_ **

She misses. Overextends. Her wrist spasms and she doesn’t go where she’s supposed to.

Two more Shadows tower over her. She’s not usually one for cursing, but this time seems appropriate.

**_[-5]_ **

She twists around the first strike but not the second. It slices through the armor on her chest and it _hurts_ , hurts like getting trapped under ice hurts, like feeling death’s breath on her neck. She nearly bends at the waist trying to flinch away - the first slice didn’t hurt nearly as much.

**_[23]_ **

**_~~[4]~~ _ ** **_[8]_ **

Cranberi cuts into the Shadow in front of her. She seems too far away – damn it, they’re being pushed apart. Thank goodness she’s still good at dodging.

Nami just needs to follow her example.

Another monster claws at her, easily seen in this light and just as easily blocked. She slams her trident forward.

**_[19]_ **

**_~~[6]~~ _ ** **_[10]_ **

Right on target. Now, the two on the right—!

Swing. She bats it away.

Swing.

**_[-3]_ **

“Shit!”

Her other arm this time, and it’s like her very spirit is being drained away. Somehow it hurts even _worse_ than the one before.

“Nami!”

“I’m fine!”

Too late. Cranberi jumps around the Shadow between them like a true tabaxi and knocks shoulders with her – that’s exactly when she remembers. ‘Cure’ is activated by touch.

**_[+10]_ **

Which means Cranberi is too busy focusing to properly guard herself.

**_[-5]_ **

Cran goes a scary sort of quiet when the next claw hits her. She hisses out a breath, and then just _hisses_. Bares her teeth at their attackers, still standing as close to Nami as she can without getting in each other’s way.

They all seem to hiss back at her.

“RUN!”

The Sower – an elf, Nami barely registers as she runs past – stumbles out into the night and keeps going.

Two hints as to what that means. Nami, freshly healed, barrels through the four creatures not even caring for any passing cuts she earns – and she does earn some. One tries to grab her, claws sinking into her shoulder, holding tight until Cranberi slams the point of her sickle straight through its hand.

**_[-2]_ **

By no means do they have clear passage, but as soon as there’s nothing immediately in front of them she does the only thing she can think of: follow that Sower. With Cranberi just beside her, she runs for the black head of hair farther up the road.

They’re still running when the explosives go off.

It’s as loud as the flares had been.

Unearthly screams and the crinkling of glass jars breaking sound immediately, and she looks back to see the storage building go up in smoke and fire. Vague shapes try to escape from inside, coated in flame; it takes her a second to realize they’re the Wisps, new to their Shadowy forms and just as new to dying.

None of the creatures outside the building bother to save their kin. Just as she turns back, the remaining few Shadows look to their little trio – the only people that had been running from the explosion – and for the second or two they take to try reaching them, they pay with their lives.

The remaining Watchmen retreat from the center of the battle, losing only a split second of ground before a barrage of spells from unoccupied Sowers turns that ground into rubble. They’d been waiting, she realizes. Waiting for the storage building to blow, holding the beasts off so that one Sower girl that rigged the bombs didn’t get overwhelmed. Shadows scream, rage, and die. The few that had been on the edges split, some charging to finish the fight and the rest bolting back into the forest.

Cheers go up as the last few monsters are cut down with a combination of spells and sheer force. Nami wants to join them for a split second, put Cranberi’s healing to good use and get in just a few more hits… but when she slows down, Cran _doesn’t_.

Her friend grabs her arm and continues down the road, hauling her along until her feet are under her again. “Cranberi, what—?”

“Not done!” She shouts back, and points her sickle to the ravine.

Or, the other side of the ravine. There, the last building on the right of the main road. The tour shop that belongs to Buck’s family.

It’s in flames.

The elf Sower slows and stops, turning to them, but they blow past her with an extra burst of speed. There are Shadows chasing people away from the bridges, away from the help of the Western Watch and the Sowers here.

Fine. They’ll plow through them.

Nami fires a magic missile. The watery darts fly over the ravine faster than she ever could and hit the creature standing ready at the end of the nearest bridge. Head, torso, throat – there’s no one close enough to control the damage for.

**_[11]_ **

Well, she has its attention.

But then a person comes up behind it – a half-orc woman wielding a handaxe and a wide strip of paper. She slaps the paper - and the familiar blue braid that ties it - onto the thing’s back as it screams at Nami, and just as suddenly as it started, it stops.

The Shadow goes limp, and with an almost casual kick at its legs the woman sends it falling over the cliff.

_“… we got ways to take care of it.”_

No kidding. She reflects on the sheer amount of paper strips they’d seen today – hanging from ceilings, off the edges of tables, around people’s waists… nearly every building they’d been in today had piles worth of these spells.

This town really is something special.

There are still monsters to kill. They rush the bridge, Cranberi keeping a stubborn hold on her arm until they’re both across, only slowing down when they approach the woman at the end. Nami takes a moment to cheer for her. “That was amazing!”

The woman grins, flattered. “You’re Nami, right? And Cranberi?”

They pause. “That’s us,” Cran says, confused, but the woman just keeps smiling.

“Pops’ll be thrilled you decided to come over.” She looks to the shop, and it clicks in Nami’s brain – half-orc, looking just around adulthood, calling them by name? There’s no way. “Don’t worry about the ol’ shop. Only the outside’s gettin’ damaged, really.”

She can feel the stars in her eyes. “You’re _Fauna_ , aren’t you!”

Fauna looks surprised. “He mentioned me?”

“Eskel, too.” Cranberi says, keeping an eye on the Shadows. “We’ll talk more later.”

“Right, right.” She shakes her head. “You two got any sleep spells?”

“… No?”

“Then take some.” Fauna hands over some slips of paper – two for each of them. “They’ll work, guaranteed, but save ‘em for when you need it.”

“Thank you.”

“Thanks.”

The sound of footfall on the bridges has all three of them looking to what’s left of the Western Watch crossing over. They split, making room for them to pass, and Fauna smiles again from around the line. “Watch yourselves!”

She’ll be fine. Nami and Cranberi head off into the throng of Shadows. “We will!”

**_[17 – 14 – 11 – 10 – 7]_ **

**_~~[12]~~ _ ** **_[16]_ **

Nami gets a clear shot on a group of three as they’re running and decides to take it. It’s weird aiming magic missile at nonlethal points, but she’ll get used to it as long as it works – and it does work. The Shadow she hits nearly crumbles, taken completely off guard, and the two with it stop what they’re doing to face her.

They get closer, and it’s almost laughable how easily she’s dodging some of these. Like playing tag with a toddler – the Shadows may be smart, but not smart enough to actually try masking their movements. She can see where this one is swinging from a mile away and moves accordingly.

It stops being funny when the second one launches past her.

**_[23]_ **

**_~~[3]~~ _ ** **_[7]_ **

**_[-2]_ **

It digs its claws into Cranberi’s stomach just as she’s slicing its hand away. The injury fails to keep her still, but it still gets shadow into her skin and Nami winces, having completely forgotten Cran hadn’t healed herself yet.

The last monster – the one she had hit first – limps into her line of sight and gives a pathetic swing.

**_[19]_ **

**_~~[3]~~ _ ** **_[7]_ **

It misses, obviously. She puts it out of its misery.

The other one still hasn’t learned its lesson, swinging wide and clear as ever. She dodges around it, making sure she and Cran aren’t being pushed away from each other this time.

**_[9]_ **

Cranberi tries to stab into the beast in front of her – the curve of her sickle is caught in its claws as it tries to swing back. They both fling each other away, neither of them getting anywhere.

Geez.

**_[19]_ **

**_~~[6]~~ _ ** **_[10]_ **

She stabs into her Shadow’s leg, the prongs of her trident getting tangled up in knife-like flesh, and sends it crashing to the ground – but it moves away when she tries again, retreating a few feet so it can stand.

**_[10]_ **

Cranberi groans in frustration when another swing comes just short of scratching the monster in front of her, face twisting in pain. Her arm shakes.

Thankfully the near-miss seems to take it by surprise. It swipes where Cran’s head would’ve been, a few inches away from the tips of her ears.

**_[20]_ **

**_~~[6]~~ _ ** **_[10]_ **

Nami feels good about this one. More than that, she gets the feeling this particular fight needs to end quickly; Cranberi needs to heal pretty desperately from the looks of things, so Nami buckles down and thrusts her trident forward.

She’s lucky enough to land a hit on the ‘meat’ – whatever qualifies as meat on these bone-like things – of the shoulder, just short of the neck. It falls with a strangled shriek.

**_[13]_ **

**_~~[4]~~ _ ** **_[8]_ **

Cranberi finally manages to graze hers, just barely. Thankfully it looks like the ‘follow through’ part of fighting is lost on these things – as long as they can hit in a non-lethal area, they get hurt. Good to know.

Its arm dissolves halfway through another attack. It screams, angry, bloodthirsty, and Nami advances.

**_[10]_ **

It doesn’t have the decency to wait for her, flinching away from her trident and trying to round on Cranberi again.

But Cran is already swinging.

**_[14]_ **

**_~~[6]~~ _ ** **_[10]_ **

As soon as it’s done Nami grabs Cran’s arm and tugs her to the side of the street, into the shelter of the nearest alley. “Heal yourself.”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine. I’m saving it for when this is over.”

Irritated, Nami flicks at the dark patch of skin and fur on her friend’s arm. They both gasp, one after the other, at the reaction it brings.

**_[-1]_ **

“Ow,” Cran hisses, cradling it against her still very injured stomach. “Fuck, that hurt!”

“I’m sorry!” She hovers over her friend. Well, not _over_ , Cran is too tall for that but – anyway. “Oh gods, you need to heal yourself, right now.”

She grunts, pained and annoyed, but obediently casts Cure.

A few seconds pass. Nami’s attention flickers back to their surroundings every other moment. There are still plenty of Shadows they have to push back. “ _Cranberi._ ”

“I’m trying!”

“What do you mean, you’re trying!”

“It’s not _fucking working_.” She presses a paw to the darkened bits again, pushing. Nami watches as the spell sputters and dies as soon as it comes into contact. She tries again and again, eventually slamming her hand onto the patch so hard it makes her hiss.

**_[-1]_ **

Nami pushes her hand away. “Stop, you’re making it worse!”

“ _What the fuck else am I supposed to do!”_

“I don’t know!” She looks around. “Why did it work before, but not now?”

Cranberi looks over her injuries – on her shoulder, her stomach, her arm. It seems like the arm is the worst off, but… isn’t it also the oldest? Her friend is near-frantic trying to get the spell to work. Her breathing is harsh, and she’s leaning against the wall for support as she looks at each scratch, trying to find the difference.

Nami swallows back her nerves. “Try… try the one on your stomach.”

Her head raises, confused, but then her eyes clear. “No, that – Cure is just, it’s just touch activated. It shouldn’t _matter_ where the touch is.”

“Okay, then try touching somewhere that’s not shadow!”

Cranberi spares the energy it takes to roll her eyes and does it. The glow flickers this time, but doesn’t die completely.

**_[+5]_ **

“Fuck.” She breathes as the dark recedes a bit. It’s still there, just… less. “I must have too much in me. Fuck.”

“I knew those things were poison…”

“It’s not poison,” she moans. “If it was, I’d already be gone. I think the dark’s just acting like, fuckin’- I don’t know, dead skin? Maybe? And I can’t heal what’s already dead.”

“But it’s _not_ dead.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

She waves her arms. “How come it worked back when we were in the forest?”

“I don’t know!” Cranberi shakes her head, thinking. “Maybe because the damage wasn’t as bad? We both only got hit once, and that was from the… explosion… thing. So I just didn’t notice.”

Well, they sure are noticing now. Looking over them both, Nami feels like their shadow level is about equal. “… Was it getting in the way?”

“Huh?”

“Was it getting in the way?” She bites her lip. “You missed a whole bunch of attacks just now. If that’s going to start happening to both of us…”

Her eyes flick over Nami’s injuries in realization. “Shit. Let me—”

“So it did?”

The harsh tone makes Cran hesitate, one hand still outstretched to heal. “I mean- a bit? I feel like I would’ve missed some of those anyway.”

“Then we have to save it.”

“Wh- now?” Cranberi makes a doubtful noise. “ _Now_ you think we should save it? Nami, if we both go and miss every single shot we’ll get slaughtered. I was saving spell slots on the assumption that we’d be _alive_ after this!”

“And we will be!” Nami insists. “So you need to lay low, and I’ll come to you for healing when I need it.”

“Nami,” she says slowly, “that’s fucking stupid. I’m not going to just sit down and wait. Let me heal you.”

“You can heal me when I start missing attacks.”

“ _Nami_.”

She opens her mouth to respond and sees the flash of a Shadow in the corner of her eye.

* * *

Every once in a while, destiny has to flip a coin.

In this world, it’s easy. Just the toss of a die makes the tides turn. A simple sentence spoken at the right time to the right person can bring a kingdom to its knees. Luck plays no small part in it. We all have our own luck – sometimes that luck is handicapped by things out of our control, and other times we simply get a leg up and don’t bother questioning it.

There is a delivery driver somewhere in America that has gone their entire career without crashing. There is another driver in the same place, working for the same company, that averages an accident every two months. Today, the day this is released, the day you first read it, and every day in between – it’s the worst day of someone’s life. It’s also the best day of someone’s life.

Preaching about luck and destiny is something that also comes easily for some, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. People can go back and forth on things that are ‘meant to be’ and things that are ‘blind luck’.

I like taking this particular world’s destiny into my own hands. Wrote all this – sixty-six pages so far! But sometimes, I feel it’s better to leave some things up to chance.

* * *

**Dec 15 th, 2020**  
**#1 renee hater: **hey renee  
**#1 renee hater:** heads or tails?

It crashes into the both of them before she can even speak, taking them completely off guard. She doesn’t have her trident up, too busy arguing, too busy thinking the battle would just wait for them to rejoin—

The Shadow towers above them, leaking pure fear into her heart, but she’s not running. It’s like she doesn’t know how to anymore. Nami can’t move in time, can’t help but watch as the monster raises its claws in an obvious, over-blown power swing angled right at them and pitches forward. She doesn’t even think. Doesn’t know what will happen next – surely something will stop them from dying, something _always_ happens, always saves them just in time.

But the only thing that happens is those claws coming down.

.

.

.

 **new doom fan:** TAILS

Cranberi is hit once, twice, carving into her leather armor and she lets out a strangled scream.

The sound forces Nami to move. She doesn’t think. She can’t think. She stabs into the Shadow’s throat without hesitation and only remembers afterward that, if she kills it this way, it’ll hurt both of them.

**_[7]_ **

It doesn’t matter, because it doesn’t die. Cranberi swings her sickle, panting, startled, in pain, darkness clinging to nearly every inch of her now armor-less chest.

And she misses.

The Shadow doesn’t miss.

It swings.

Cranberi hits the ground and doesn’t get up.

And Nami stops trying to think.

**_[5]_ **

An arrow sprouts from the Shadow’s eye out of nowhere and sends it stumbling. She doesn’t care. She hears shouting, hears her name, hears questions. She doesn’t care. Her vision is entirely taken by the Shadow kneeling in front of her, by the many Shadows plaguing the street behind it, and she doesn’t bother seeing anything else. There is nothing to see.

**_[7]_ **

She shoves her trident into its throat. It can explode like this. She doesn’t care.

She wants it to _hurt_.

So she twists. Slowly. Agonizingly. When it screams at her, pure malice and anger and _hate_ , she screams back twice as loud. It earns the attention of every single Shadow in hearing range – they all face her now and she hopes they can sense, somewhere in their twisted brains, how much of a mistake they have made.

**_[3]_ **

The Shadow below her explodes. She barely even feels it.

“Gods damn it- Nami!”

**_[13]_ **

She gestures with her trident, magic missile streaming out of the point and hitting the nearest beast dead-on. Its leg crumbles and it screeches at her, but this thing isn’t worth wasting her voice.

None of them are.

She revs up another magic missile only to realize she’s fresh out. Fine. She’ll use second-level slots, then – two slots means two monsters dead, and that’s all she needs.

**_[21]_ **

Kill.

**_[20]_ **

Kill.

That’s the last bit of magic her body can take, and it irritates her.

Fine. She’s been getting along just fine with her trident. She’ll destroy every Shadow she can see.

“Nami, fucking stop! Stop!”

She doesn’t stop. In the blink of an eye she’s standing in front of the monster she’d crippled a moment ago with her trident shoved into its remaining leg. She hopes it hurts.

 **_~~[7]~~ _ ** **_[11]_ **

It sure screams like it does.

An arm wraps around her and lifts until her feet can’t touch the ground.

She snarls. Struggles. Brings the tip of her trident closer to her face just so she can stab backwards with it, but the arm doesn’t budge. In fact, it holds tighter, chafing against the darkness in her skin and making her cry out in anger – how _dare_ he, how could—

—he…

“Calm down,” he says when she freezes. “It’s okay. She’s fine. Look, she’s okay.”

A Watchman runs past- multiple do, herding Shadows away from the main road and back into the wilderness. Their armor glints in the firelight.

“Sorry we took so long,” Joemin says, setting her down. “Took a while to figure out where you were.”

She twists around and looks up at him. He doesn’t _look_ like a rage-induced hallucination, but… “Joemin?”

He smiles. “Yeah. Hey, Nami.”

Her breath catches. She pushes around him, looking for the alleyway. “Cranberi, is she—"

“Holy fuck, are you conscious now?” Barnaby says, standing in front of her with his hand-axe resting on his shoulder and looking very, very real. “You hear me? ‘Cause it sure didn’t seem like you could!”

She examines him. “Barnaby? Where’s—”

“Over here!” Kilgon waves from a- from _the_ alleyway. “You guys sure you wanna stand so close to her? She’s _scary_.”

“Yeah, you went into, like, some kind of bloodrage,” Barnaby turns back to her, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says, ghosting past him. She needs to see. Needs to be sure.

Kilgon exaggerates a flinch when she comes ‘too close’ to him and starts pouting when she doesn’t react. She feels, rather than sees, Gonkil fly over to perch on her shoulder when the crow’s claws irritate her wounds. It’s fine. It’s Gonkil, so she’ll live with it.

There.

Freedon and Kisia surround her body, Kisia steadying her enough to sit up while Freedon slowly tips a waterskin into her mouth. Nami’s happy to see them.

She’s happier to see Cranberi alive, looking more timid than she’s ever been. When Freedon pulls away from her she smiles, one of the fake ones that has her baring her teeth too much to be friendly, and winces her way through a wave. “Uh. Hey.”

Her shoulders sag. It hurts. “Hey.”

“You okay?”

She’s too exhausted to laugh, but she tries anyway.

“Yeah. You?”

Cranberi snorts, looking down at herself. She’s still covered in dark. “Y’know, I could be better.”

 _‘Looks like the Watch is almost done,’_ Freedon signs at them as she chuckles. She knew there was an actual sign for ‘watch’.

“Think you can walk yet?” Barnaby says, coming up behind her. Nami doesn’t notice his hand is glowing until it’s already on her wrist. Some of the pain recedes. “That can _not_ be easy to move with.”

“Ha, it’s really not,” Cran says, “but I’ll live. Just, uh, might need a bit of help.”

“I gotcha.” Joemin joins the little group and kneels down to give Cranberi a boost.

“Carry her!” Kilgon cheers from further back. “Sweep her off her feet!”

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Oh?” Joemin smiles down at a now-captive Cranberi. “Why not?”

“I draw the line at carrying!” She snarls. “If you try and carry me your life is _forfeit_ , you hear me?”

“I think I’ve developed deafness in this ear. Mind repeating?”

 _‘Guys,’_ Freedon waves them apart, _‘can you please save the flirting for later?’_

“Wh- I- we are not flirting!”

“We’re not?” Joemin teases. “You’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

Kisia shakes her head at them and nods to catch Nami’s eye. They’re close enough friends to just sort of bypass actual words in these kinds of situations – Kisia tilts her head, and Nami gives her a smile that doesn’t even feel forced.

Kilgon loudly hums a bastardized version of a wedding march while Joemin and Cranberi bicker, and all three only get louder when Joemin decides to actually go through with the threat of picking her up. He almost gleefully ignores the claws digging into his armor while Cran shouts at him, carrying her out into the street with the rest of the group following behind.

Nami knows it’s only been a few days since they were all separated, but…

She doesn’t want to get too far from Cranberi after what just happened, so she matches pace with Joemin and contents herself with looking back at the others every few moments. Freedon and Barnaby walk together like they always do, gesturing at each other too fast for her to figure out what they’re saying. Kisia walks behind them, quietly guarding like always, and smiles at her when they meet eyes. Kilgon’s taken Joemin’s other side and stands just out of range of Cranberi’s kicks so he can continue humming his wedding song, making her split her focus between yelling and trying to wiggle out of Joemin’s hold far enough to reach him.

It feels like a dream, almost. Gonkil rumbles her little bird voice in Nami’s ear and tries to preen her fins.

Even with the dark clinging to nearly every part of her, she feels better than she has in ages.

\---

“Nami Precip,” Captain Quin says as they lean against one of the many cots taking up the floorspace of Loraline’s bar, “I thought I told you to get the fuck out of my town.”

Nami doesn’t bother wasting energy trying to hide. There are a few curious eyes on her, but she thinks most of them are from her group - she’s not usually the one pissing off locals, after all.

So she shrugs and sits at the end of the nearest empty cot. “It’s not morning yet.”

They scoff.

“And technically,” she hedges, “Shadows don’t make people bleed anyway, so I didn’t spill blood here.”

Surprisingly enough, that makes them pause. “You’re a real piece of work. If you were in the Watch, I’d fire you.”

That’s fair. It’s disheartening, knowing how badly she’d ruined her chances at making friends with them, but… it seems like Quin is a Watch Captain first and foremost. At least they might be the only person in town that dislikes her.

Joemin sets an angry Cranberi on the same cot she’s sitting on, and she scooches over to make room. Quin looks over them both. “Chulip passed on what you two did on the West side. Said she’d never seen two strangers stick around as much as you had.”

Nami tilts her head. “Chulip?”

“Elven girl,” Quin says. “Black hair, was the one that blew the Wisps to hell.”

“Oh!” Nami smiles despite herself. Chulip’s a nice name. “Is she okay?”

“She’s walking around, so better than most of us.” They sigh, rubbing at their leg. “She’s a good Sower. Reliable. And not really one to give people praise, so. You earned it.”

Joemin leans over the cot- over Cranberi, who looks like she’s debating scratching him- to get a better look at them. “I’m sorry, who are you?”

They raise an eyebrow. “Quin. Captain of the Watch. Who are you?”

“Quinzley,” Kilgon says, vaguely inserting himself into the conversation. “Quinzical. Quezacoatl.”

“My name’s Joemin.”

“Fantastic,” Quin says sarcastically, looking back to Nami. “I’m guessing you know them, then.”

She nods. “Our party. We, um, got separated a few days ago.”

“And you all magically show up, just as the fighting’s dying down. Don’t that just figure.” They drawl and glance at Cranberi. “What was that god of yours called? You keep getting miracles like this, and I might have to start a shrine or two.”

Cranberi huffs. “ _Goddess_. Circidan.”

“And we did actually magically show up, so…” Joemin says, shrugging.

“Yeah, about that,” Cran sits up, clutching her stomach, “how the _fuck_ did you all get here? We thought you’d be at the tower until next mission!”

Barnaby leans on the other side of the cot. “Did you guys really think we wouldn’t look for you? That’s like, the _first thing_ we did.”

 _‘Eliah found you,’_ Freedon signs. _‘With scrying. He did every day until you found town.’_

“Oh yeah, Uloun wanted to send some sort of _demon_ to find you,” Kilgon laughs. “I thought that would’ve been really cool, but we got outvoted.”

“It took a bit to figure out which town,” Barnaby says, nodding along, “and it took even _longer_ for Linan to figure out how to get us here – and then we fucking missed by like, three miles, and had to walk the rest of the way… but we got here in the end.”

_‘Just in time.’_

“Too bad you couldn’t have been two seconds faster.” Cran smiles. “I could’ve actually helped with healing.”

At that, Barnaby crosses his arms. “You seriously need to learn how to dodge.”

“Hey, I was dodging just fine until then!”

“Obviously you weren’t!”

“Stop being mean to me, I’m injured.”

“Honestly, you’re lucky– _yeah ha ha luck whatever_ – that Joemin and I know healing spells,” he says, frowning. “Uloun almost came with us, but Eliah figured we’d all be coming right back and convinced her not to.”

 _‘A bunch of people almost came with us,’_ Freedon says. _‘Whisper and Linan too. They were worried.’_

“Miles made so many fucking potions.” Barnaby continues. “Stress-brewing.”

“And they made _me_ drag him to the therapy office!” Kilgon grumbles. “Me! Do you know how much time I’ve spent avoiding that hallway? A lot! And now I have to start all over.”

Nami and Cran both look at him, impressed. “You went to the therapists’ office? _Willingly_?”

“No, not _willingly_!”

Freedon huffs out a laugh. _‘We got Joemin and Kisia to stand at either end. He had no choice.’_

“I’ll never recover,” he moans.

Cranberi still looks stunned. “Did the therapist actually _see_ you?”

“Nope, and she never will.”

“Oh good, I was worried.”

Kilgon looks two seconds from crying. “Thank you. _Thank you_.”

 _‘Enough,’_ Freedon rolls his eyes. _‘He’s been crying about it for the last ten hours, I’m sick of it. Linan made new sigils for both of you, so we can go whenever you’re ready.’_

Nami blinks.

She shouldn’t be surprised it’s that easy to get back. It had always been that easy before, but she’s still so caught in the mindset of ‘we need to keep traveling’ to remember that they could just… go. That they could officially be over and done with not just this town, but this journey they had been trying to get through.

But… she doesn’t want to go just yet.

“Captain Quin?” She looks back over at the halfling who’s been watching the proceedings. “Is Buck okay? And Zela?”

They hum. “Injured, but alive. Zela’s getting looked over back at base, and Buck went to find his family.”

Oh right. Fauna had been in the middle of the fighting, too. She has no idea where the rest of his family could’ve gone, but she hopes they’re okay. Nami looks around the rows of cots for any more familiar faces. “Have you seen Eskel? Loraline?”

She hears Joemin whisper a loud ‘who are they’ but waves him away for the moment. Quin nods to the back stairs that lead to the inn rooms. “Saw them head up a bit ago. Seem like they’re both in one piece.”

“Thank goodness,” she sighs and turns to the rest of the group. “They’re friends. Eskel, Loraline, Buck, Zela, Buck’s family…”

“Well, we didn’t meet Buck’s family.”

“We met his daughter! She was really cool. Anyway, I don’t want to leave without saying goodbye to them.”

Barnaby shrugs. “Alright. We’ll say goodbye, then.”

She smiles and glances at Cranberi. “I’ll just go and tell them to come down, unless you want to get carried up the stairs.”

“Absolutely not,” Cran winces and unsheathes her claws when Joemin tries to come closer. “I will actually hurt you if you try carrying me on _stairs_ , so don’t.”

“You’re not moving either,” Barnaby says, standing in front of her before she can get up. “Tell me what they look like and I’ll go find them.”

“Oh. Um—”

“They’re the only two humans in town with red hair,” Quin says. “You’ll know it when you see them.”

Barnaby nods in thanks and steps away, only looking back to make sure Nami isn’t moving before he goes up the stairs.

After a moment, Freedon shakes his head. _‘I can’t believe you guys got in this much trouble.’_

“And without us!” Kilgon chimes.

Cran laughs. “It’s not like we meant to leave you out.”

_‘Still.’_

“So um,” Joemin starts, “not to sound like a complete idiot here, but… what was the deal with all those dark things?”

Quin sighs. “Hate Shadows.”

“Yeah, those.”

“Technically, they’re from here.” They move to sit on the cot across from Nami. “They get born as Wisps in the ravine and come out as those beasts when they mature. We usually get to them before that happens, but as you can see, quite a few escaped us somehow. I’ve got a few theories on that, but I won’t bore you with the details.”

“Yeah, okay, but what _are_ they?”

“Hate. Shadow. I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

 _‘It’s not.’_ Freedon frowns. _‘Where does the hate part come from?’_

“From the—” They take a breath. “There’s a… there’s something. Underground. It’s been buried for thousands of years, so we just call it the Buried. A bit more than a hundred years ago the miners that lived here accidently drilled into its brain. That’s where the hate comes from.”

“What do you mean, you’ve ‘got theories’?” Cranberi says, sitting up again.

“We did _not_ let that many Shadows get loose.” Quin insists. “Before now, the amount of Shadows actually escaping the ravine averaged one or two a year. Yes, I’d think they were ambushing Wisp deliveries- if I didn’t have _eyewitness_ _testimony_ that every single ambush was carried out by actual people, not Shadows. In fact, your personal testimony was the first hint we got of this pack.”

Nami frowns. “It had to have been building for a while though, right? There were a lot of Shadows.”

They nod. “I—”

“Hey, you’re okay!”

Nami looks up to see Eskel speedwalking towards their cots, Barnaby and Loraline just behind him. “Eskel! Loraline! Are you guys alright?”

He grins down at her. “We’re fine. Check it out.” Eskel lifts the sleeve of his Sower’s garb to reveal a thin line of dark on his upper arm. “Practically healed already.”

“Whoa. Where’d you get that?”

“Oh, you should’ve seen him,” Loraline coos, wrapping an arm around her son’s shoulders. “That first flare went up, and he’s runnin’ like death’s on his heels straight to the greenhouse.”

“Momma…” He pushes away a little, blushing bright red. “But yeah, a bunch of us were keeping the greenhouse secure. We, um… we lost a few plants. But we didn’t have any other casualties over there.”

“And I’m very, very proud of him.”

Barnaby smiles, confused. “What’s so important about a greenhouse? Plants? What?”

“I understand,” Joemin nods. “Plants are important.”

“Yeah, plants are _important_ , Barnaby. Don’t be so rude.” Kilgon teases.

“I’m not!”

Cranberi laughs and nudges Nami. “At least we didn’t react like that.” She says, earning a laugh in return.

Eskel smiles at the questions, obviously exhausted. “Ah- well, the plants are… they’re important. Part of keeping the Shadows out.”

“The plants are really cool,” Nami says. “We-…”

Actually, that gives her an idea.

She looks to Eskel. “Hey, um, how many plants got destroyed?”

He winces. “A few table’s worth. So… twenty-ish?”

“Do you think we could help replace them?”

Barnaby squints at her. “Nami, where the hell can we get replacement plants. I’ve never heard of a plant that ‘keeps shadows out’. I’ve never even seen Shadows before today.”

“Just trust me.”

“I think,” Eskel says with a watery smile, “it’d be a big help. If you’re all up for it.”

“What does ‘replacing plants’ entail, exactly?”

“Re-living your happiest memory,” Cranberi says. That earns everyone’s attention, Kilgon in particular looking interested. “And I do mean ‘happiest’. Even if it’s bittersweet or… you know, not something that most people would think is happy.”

They all take a second. Freedon and Barnaby glance at each other curiously. _‘I think we can do that.’_

Barnaby nods a slow agreement. “I think we can.”

“I don’t even know if I have a happiest memory,” Kilgon mumbles. “Do I have one of those? Maybe the first time I met Sebastian…”

“I would like to try,” Kisia says. “I don’t know what mine would be, but it sounds cool.”

“And, uh, you already did it and it was fine, right?” Joemin asks them. Nami nods. “Then I guess I can, too?”

Eskel smiles so brightly she’s practically blinded. “There are still a few people over there that can walk you through it- I, um, can’t really head over right now, considering,” he waves his hand around vaguely, “but I’ll find you an escort! Be right back.”

Loraline takes up his place as he leaves. “Y’know, I thought you two were gonna be mighty interesting when you first showed up.”

Quin snorts. “They’re not exactly subtle.”

“Indeed they ain’t.” She smiles at them, and Nami feels… motherly approval? What? “We’re rationin’ healing gel, but I’ve still got some spare to clean the two of you up. Hold tight.”

“I’ll admit,” Quin continues as she leaves, “you surprised me. Both of you.”

She smiles hopefully. “Was it a good surprise?”

“Jury’s still out on that one,” they huff, “but considering how bad this could’ve gotten without you… let’s just say I was wrong about you.”

Cran tilts her head at them. “Wrong?”

They nod. “When Buck came and told me you two ran, I’ll be honest, it was exactly what I thought you’d do. But instead you managed to turn my Watchman against me, lie to my face, help destroy every Wisp above ground, and now you’re here in front of me absolutely unrepentant.” Quin looks over their injuries again. “I’m not used to being wrong about people, but I’m glad I was this time.”

“Aw,” Kilgon swoons, “how touching.”

“No fighting in my bar,” Loraline says just as Quin turns their glare to him. She bustles over with a ceramic jar while Kilgon gives the Captain a smug smile and sets it down beside Cranberi. She then unplugs the cork with a _pop_ , and Nami smells the seaside. “This’ll clear that dark right up, honey.”

Cranberi leans forward to smell it- actually, everyone’s leaning forward. “More songweaving?”

“You guessed it.” She scoops up a glob of bright blue gel. “One layer of this and you’ll be walking again. You’ll have to see a regular healer to get it completely cleared away, but this’ll drive it out well enough until then.”

With that, she starts rubbing dollops of gel into Craneri’s fur. The smell sours a bit, going from sea-salt to fish as the color changes from bright blue to purple, but Nami can see the clouds of darkness on her friend’s skin getting smaller and smaller. Once Cran’s wounds are covered, she moves to Nami and starts rubbing gel into her skin as well.

It makes her a bit dizzy. She’s not used to feeling the ocean move on dry land.

“There you are. Give it ten minutes, and you’re free to go.” Loraline turns to Quin. “Your turn, Captain.”

They heave a sigh and roll up their pant leg.

“Holy shit,” Cranberi breathes, “what got you?”

Quin’s leg is covered in darkness, but it also had three deep bands of scorched skin wrapping around their calf. They hum, seemingly pleased. “I don’t like taking a gentle hand to Shadows, so the sleeping tags I carry are… a little different. Shame it had a hold of me, though. Took some enjoyment out of watching it burn.”

Loraline scoffs. “Well I hope you’re happy, ‘cause it’s gonna sting like a mother now. Hold still.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Nami sees Eskel emerge from the door behind the bar – probably the kitchens – with a dragonborn wearing Sower’s garb and guides them over to them. “You guys alright? Still want to help?”

A few affirmatives. Eskel grins and physically pushes the dragonborn at the center of the group. “Great! This is my buddy Abris, he’s gonna escort you there.”

Abris glares back at him, but nods. “Sup.”

“Sup,” Kilgon says. He’s got the ‘I’m going to annoy this person’ glint in his eye, but at this point they’ve all learned to just let him have it. “Abris is a cool name, how’d you get it?”

“Stole it.”

And just like that he’s invested. “Cool, cool. I’m Kilgon. Hey, do you like boats?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Cranberi groans.

Abris’ expression doesn’t even change. “I love boats.”

“So do I! Did you know—”

“Shut up!” Cranberi kicks at him. “You can talk boats outside!”

He pouts. “Mean.”

“Outside!”

“ _Fine_ …”

“I like you,” Abris says. His inflection still hasn’t changed in the slightest. “We’ll talk about boats on the way to the greenhouse.”

Kilgon grins. “Nice.”

The two walk out side-by-side, Kisia following curiously after. Freedon and Barnaby share a commiserating look before walking out, too. “See you guys later, I guess.”

“See you!” Nami waves at them.

“I’ll just go then?” Joemin says, hesitant. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

Cran sighs. “We’re fine. We’ll meet up with you later.”

“Don’t die again, please.”

“I’ll—” she snorts— “I’ll try not to.”

He nods and eases his way through the cots after them.

Eskel takes a moment to laugh. “I think you might be the most normal people in your group.”

“That’s rich,” Cran says. “I think Freedon might be the most normal.”

She hums. “Joemin’s pretty normal.”

“No, Nami, no he isn’t. That man is an enigma.”

“He’s not that bad.”

“He eats raw potatoes.”

She thinks on it. “Okay, he’s a little weird. But we all are!”

“We are.”

Eskel leans his hip against their cot. “I guess you guys are leaving soon, then?”

“We should be,” Nami says, prodding absently at some of the now-purple goop on her shoulder. “I want to say goodbye to Buck, but after that we’re going—” she chokes on the next word. “To. The tower. Yeah.”

Cranberi laughs at her.

“Guess I should give you these now, then,” Eskel says.

He digs around in his pocket a bit and pulls out a stack of folded paper strips. Nami’s eyes go wide. “The sound strips!” She takes them when they’re handed to her and pulls at the top piece of paper. It has those same odd glyphs on it, and she bounces in excitement. “You remembered! Thank you so much.”

He nods. “They’ll stick to any door automatically – just put one on with the ink facing away from the room you want sound in, and it’ll work for as long as the writing isn’t damaged.”

“You’re amazing. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do.” Eskel rubs at the back of his neck, face a little red with all the praise. “I caught up with Fauna a few minutes before you guys came in. She said you guys were pretty cool.”

“Not as cool as her,” Cran says. “We saw her walk up to a Shadow like it was nothing. Slapped one tag on it and tossed in over the cliff. It was badass.”

He glows. “She is really cool, huh?”

Quin huffs. “Puppy love. Those two have been dancing around each other for the last four years.”

Eskel pales. “Oh gods, please shut up.”

“I told Buck,” they grin, “the second he can get them together I’ll forfeit my title to him. He’ll have deserved it, dealing with two lovestruck teenagers for who knows how long.”

Nami and Cranberi both burst out laughing.

“What’s this about that shiny desk o’ yours?”

She turns at the familiar voice with her brightest smile. “Buck!”

Quin scoffs. “Speak of the devil.”

“And I have appeared,” Buck says, bowing. His entire left side is covered in dark, but his voice is as jovial as ever. “Abris caught me on the road and pointed me this way. I’ve been lookin’ for the two o’ you!”

“Good to see you’re still in one piece,” Cran greets him, waving.

“You as well, miss Cranberi.” He looks over her. “Bastards got you pretty good, huh?”

She shrugs. “I’m alive.”

Barely, she doesn’t say. Nami bites her tongue and tries no to let her smile fall. “We were going to look for you just after this. Our friends found us while everything was going on, so we’re leaving soon.”

“That right?” He looks over Nami as well, no doubt seeing the multiple spots of purple gel on her. “Guess I _was_ wonderin’ why two ladies like yourselves would be tacklin’ the world alone. Glad you lot are together again.”

She sighs. “Us, too.”

Buck hums at them. “Captain. Look away for a few minutes.”

“Damn it, Buck,” Quin says and turns around so their back is to him, “you know I can’t keep letting this slide for long. I have a reputation.”

“Relax, I ain’t doin’ anythin’ that ain’t warranted.” Buck grins at them and kneels down, waving them closer. Nami leans forward, intrigued. “Now don’t say anythin’ to sourpuss over there, but I got you a little present. Ah- no talkin’.” He holds up a hand and reaches into one of his pockets. His hand is so large, it completely covers what he pulls out as he shoves whatever it is towards Nami. She holds out her hands obediently.

A bell chimes.

“Buck,” Quin says, “I better not be hearing what I think I’m hearing.”

“Close your ears, then!”

Nami stares, wide eyed, at the two metal cuffs in her hands – one smaller than the other. One for Cranberi. One for her. “Buck, this is—”

He pats her head. “No talkin’, miss Nami! Just take ‘em. We got enough – one or two bits won’t be missed too badly.”

She’s going to cry. She’s gotten very, very close to it over the last few days, but she’s going to cry right now and nothing’s going to stop her. So she clips her cuff around her wrist, sniffling as she closes it and holds it up to the light, and passes Cranberi’s over to her. “Thank you.”

“Aw, c’mere darlin’,” he leans to wrap an arm around her, “it’s alright!”

It’s more than alright.

This town really is something special.

\---

The others are quiet when they meet back up at the greenhouse, Buck escorting Nami and Cranberi while Abris leads them out. There are a few suspiciously raw voices when they greet each other, but that’s fine – Nami’s throat feels scratchy, too. It’s been a while.

 _‘Did you find B-U-C-K?’_ Freedon asks. His hands are shaking a little.

Cranberi gestures to their escort. “Yup. Guys, this is Buck.”

“Nice to meet you,” Barnaby says. The rest of them are still quiet.

Buck looks over them all. “You folks look tired. Sure you’re ready to go?”

Nami nods. “You’ll tell Zela we said goodbye?”

“Soon as she’s done napping,” he promises, and reaches over to ruffle Cranberi’s hair. Her ears go straight up, but she doesn’t say anything. “Y’all be safe.”

“We will.” Nami reaches over and hugs him one more time. She barely comes up to his waist. “We’ll come back and visit one day!”

“We’ll be waitin’ for you,” Buck says, hugging her with a hand pressed to her back. “So long, miss Nami.”

“So long.”

Freedon pulls out two folded pieces of paper, handing one to each of them once they’re in reach. Nami unfolds hers to see the familiar teleportation sigil and looks over it, just to be sure. She doubts she could get lost like this again, but the possibility makes her nervous.

Not as nervous as she is relieved, though. They’re finally going back.

Cranberi looks to her. “Ready?”

She nods. “Ready.”

And she presses her thumb to the ink.


	2. Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barnaby and Freedon go camping with the gang :) it doesn't work out so well. WIP

Cranberi sits up so fast that it looks like a flinch, and it startles Joemin into nearly dropping his bowl. “I’ve decided something.”

Barnaby looks over. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“What’d you decide, kid?”

She looks at him. Her pupils are narrowed into slits. She’s holding her empty bowl loosely in one hand and he can tell every inch of her attention is focused right here in front of this campfire. As if acting on instinct alone, Kilgon’s attention somehow snaps to the present just in time for Cran’s ‘decision’.

She takes a nice, long breath.

“I fucking hate this. I’m going home.”

Kilgon cheers. Barnaby throws his bowl into the fire.

“We’re done!” The other man is near-sobbing with relief, already on his feet and tugging on Cran’s arm like he just won a lottery. “We’re done, Cranberi said so! We can leave now!”

“God damn it, would it kill you to stay still for five damn minutes?” Barnaby asks, pointedly Not Frustrated by the proceedings at all. “Sit down! Enjoy the silence! We don’t get that much of it anymore, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Barns, I love you,” Cran says like it doesn’t still pluck his heartstrings, “really, I do. But this is fucking boring and I could be in my actual bed right now.”

He flails his hands around. “We’re bonding! No- sit back down, we are bonding, this is bonding time.”

Joemin freezes, already halfway standing. “Uh.”

“We are bonding literally every time we go on missions,” Cranberi says, tugging Joemin the rest of the way up. He gives her one of his patented confused smiles, which she ignores. “Every other month or so I end up solo with one of you assholes and we get enough bonding in for a lifetime. I’m good Barns, I’m set on the whole bonding thing. Rah-rah, go team! I wanna _leave_.”

“Cranberi.”

She groans, clawing at her eyes. “Goddess please don’t do the dad voice.”

“ _Cranberi_.”

“No! No, no, I’m not doing it this time.” He can tell she’s really trying to hold back from baring her teeth at him – she doesn’t do it often, but when she does, tensions are usually high enough that he ends up baring his teeth back and that always ends in some sort of fight. “Listen. Barns. I really get that you want the team to be closer. I do! I one-hundred-percent support it.”

He levels a bland stare at her. “But you’re still leaving.”

“Camping?” She blinks around at their little camp like it somehow surprised her by being there. “I thought you would be tired of camping? _I’m_ tired of camping!”

“Okay, half of you assholes turn down game night every time I offer, so don’t say I could have done something different.”

“You- you only like playing old man card games!”

Freedon puts a hand on his chest. It’s a devastating blow.

“Wow.” Barnaby says. “Wow. Fuck you.”

“You know I don’t mean it like that.”

“What other way could you have meant it?!”

Kilgon smiles. “I mean, I’m technically older and you’re still the old man of the group.”

“Shut up Kilgon.”

“Shut up, Kilgon!” She shoves her empty bowl in Kilgon’s face. He fumbles, holds it there for a moment, then moves it to the top of his head so he can wear it like a hat. Nami sputters out a laugh from her seat beside him. “Listen, I would love to go on a bonding trip with you.” Cranberi tilts her head. “I mean, my usual bonding trips tend to end in disaster, but ignoring that! I’d love to, Barns. I would. Thunderwave buddies and all that.”

“Thunder buddies!”

“Shut _up_ , Kilgon. But after all the camping we’ve had to do recently, I am just not up for this.”

Barnaby frowns at her, obviously disappointed. “Cran, it’s one night.”

She points at him. “Yes! Yes, it is one night. Specifically, one of the _seven_ nights that I am actually, physically able to be in a familiar bed, with familiar surroundings, in a very secure tower belonging to someone I sort-of trust before I— _we_ are all sent out again for who knows how long, roughing it in the wilderness and fighting… Goddess, I don’t know, slimes maybe? Fuck.”

He raises an unimpressed eyebrow at her and looks around the group. “Do all of you agree with this?”

“…” Kisia shifts. “… We do get into fights a lot.”

“Yeah. And we’re all pretty used to camping already,” Nami says.

“Wh- but that makes this perfect!” Barnaby gestures to her. “Easy! We don’t even have to try to be good at it!”

“It’s boring!” Kilgon shouts.

“ _You’re_ boring!”

“No, you!”

“No, you—ack!” _Rafts are meant to travel one way. They can be guided with a pole, but can’t be propelled. Canoes are small. Paddles propel the boat. Sailing ships are large ships that are propelled by large sails that catch the wind._ “Kilgon you cut that shit out right now.”

“Cut what out?”

_Sailing ships usually have oars too._ “You’re all brats, I don’t even know why I like you. Attention spans like damn birds.”

Gonkil peeks out of Kilgon’s pocket just to squawk indignantly at him.

“Aw,” Joemin says, “you’ve upset her.”

“Her owner’s a menace!”

The owner in question starts pouting. “Did you not enjoy the boat facts?”

“You know damn well I didn’t.”

“Too bad.”

_The boat's left side is referred to as the port side._ “Stop it!”

“Enough.” Cranberi shoos the man away. “Enough with the damn boat facts. Don’t give me that look, I know you’re doing them. Barns, you didn’t even give me time to grab, like, a book. Not to mention, this ‘restful bonding thing’ isn’t even going to be restful for at least one of us just because we’re in the middle of nowhere and someone needs to keep watch.”

Barnaby starts muttering.

“I know you’re trying. I really appreciate it. But I don’t think this is the way.”

“Fuckin’ guilt tripping me just because you’re bored.” He shakes his head. “Fine, then! You guys are so against spending time together then go back to the tower! I’ll be here. Alone.”

Something in Cranberi’s eyes hardens.

She takes another deep breath. Both Nami and Joemin glance at her, obviously concerned. “I know you don’t know this,” she says slowly, “and I know it’s just because I haven’t told you yet. But _do not_ try to guilt trip me. I’m trying to turn you down in literally the most polite way I know how.”

“You’re doing a shit job of it!”

She snarls. “Fine then.”

And she pulls out Linan’s paper and flashes away.

Barnaby’s eyes are fixed on where she had just been standing, absolutely astounded. She just left. In the middle of an argument. She never does that. “Wh- am I being the asshole here? Guys?”

He looks around. Most of the others look just as confused as he feels, but Nami and Joemin…

He fixates on them. “Guys. What am I missing?”

Nami grimaces. Joemin looks away.

“Um…” she says, one nail tapping at her bell-cuff. The chime is muted against her skin, but it still rings softly. “I’m not sure? But she’s been, um, holed up in our room for a few days now.”

Freedon begins signing. _‘Not even to visit the library?’_

“Yeah, not even to visit the library?” Barnaby repeats for the rest of them. “What’s up with her?”

“I don’t know.”

Joemin’s shoulders hunch. Barnaby changes focus. “Joemin?”

“Uh.” The taller man doesn’t seem to know where to look other than ‘away from him’. “Er… well, she may have told me… something. Sort of.”

He goes quiet. Thankfully, Barnaby is at least used to drilling information out of his teammates by now. “Okay, what did she say?”

“Y’know, looking back I probably shouldn’t tell you.”

Nami moves to get into his line of sight. “She’s our friend, too. Can’t you at least tell us she’ll be alright?”

“She’ll be fine,” he says, softer now. “This week is just. Bad. I think.”

Barnaby sighs. “Well, what happens this week?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s obviously not nothing.”

… Joemin disappears.

They all stare at the now-empty space. He’s getting real tired of people just teleporting away in the middle of conversations. “What the fuck!”

“That’s my cue!” Kilgon cheers, and is suddenly gone.

“Okay, come on.” Barnaby sighs. “Guys, please.”

“Um,” Kisia frowns, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m gonna go check on them.”

“Kisia, wait, if you teleport you won’t—” Too late. He groans into the sky and covers his eyes.

Well! Well. There’s just three of them now. Hardly a ‘team bonding trip’ without the team. God fucking damn it.

He just wanted to be nice. Have a nice little night away from everything! No missions, no being woken up by Miles’ experiments… just sitting around, eating snacks, telling stories. Getting closer. But no, obviously it’s completely his fault for wanting that. And it’s also somehow his fault for picking one of the worst weeks to do it on, apparently! What the hell was that even about? One of them is actually having a tough week now of all times, and he just didn’t notice? Why not?

He can still hear Nami shuffling her feet, so he uncovers his eyes to look at her. Her leg is bouncing in agitation and she’s playing with the top flap of her bag, where he knows her own teleportation letter is hidden.

Barnaby sighs. The entire plan has gone to shit in less than ten minutes. That has to be a new record.

“Go on, Nami.”

She frowns at him. “You sure?”

“Yeah…” He takes out his axe and sharpening stone just to get his hands moving. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Might as well not waste Linan’s teleport completely.”

“… Freedon?”

The other man signs something that he doesn’t lift his head in time to see. He’s about to ask to see it again, hoping for… well, hoping that he’s not about to be left completely alone, but Nami nods like she understood and flashes away.

“What?” He looks around the empty campfire. “Since when does Nami know sign?”

_‘Cran’s been teaching her.’_ Freedon signs. Barnaby had always liked coming up with sign-names for people – Cranberi’s name ended up being a mix of ‘fruit’ and ‘cat’, which never stopped being funny. He can’t really pull up a smile right now, but the feeling’s still there under the sheer confusion.

“Oh.” One less thing she needs him for then, huh. “Okay. Good for her.”

Freedon looks at him. He focuses on sharpening his axe. _‘Are you okay?’_

Fucking no. He feels useless and a bit like an asshole, even though he knows that not only did nobody tell him Cran was in a mood, but one little camping trip was not that much to ask in the first place. Just like he knows that she’s probably feeling twice as guilty because she’s just like that, and they’re all going to hug, make up, and put the whole spat behind them when he comes back tomorrow… but for right now it sucks. It sucks that they all just fucking left, chose to head back to whatever alone time they were having in the tower rather than willingly spend time together.

He shakes his head. “I’m fine. You can go back too if you want.”

Please don’t, he doesn’t say, because he’s a needy idiot and doesn’t want to sleep alone.

_‘I’ll stay,’_ Freedon signs back, looking content to settle in. _‘You know they don’t mean it, right?’_

“I know.”

_‘I think it could have been a good idea.’_

“Hm.” He’s starting to doubt it. Why did he think camping would work in the first place?

He knows why. It’s because that’s all he had to do to know someone back during… all that. Long before he ended up here. Sit a bunch of soldiers around the fire and suddenly they’re all the best of friends, and come next morning, they’re all rested and raring to go. It happened so many times during deployment that it’s managed to translate over into regular life.

Sit the team around the fire. Get food and drink. Let things happen naturally.

Maybe this was just natural, then.

The thought sours his mood even more. No, no, that… he doesn’t want that to be it. Maybe they’re just a bad fit when nobody’s on the same page. They’ve been on the same page before, and it always ends up being something so thrilling and right, he knows they can mesh well together.

Just not right now.

Soon enough his axe is well and truly sharpened, as if it wasn’t before. Freedon’s been staring into the fire for a while now.

What could he be thinking?

“Hey,” his mouth says without permission, “what’s on your mind?”

The other man blinks out of whatever trance he was in and looks over. _‘Nothing.’_

“Nothing-nothing?”

_‘Nothing-nothing.’_ He smiles. _‘Hasn’t happened in a while. Sorry.’_

“Don’t get lost in there, Freedon,” Barnaby nudges him. “I’d miss ‘ya.”

He nudges back. _‘You too. It’s lonely in there.’_

“Heh, I bet.” God knows it’s lonely in his head too. “Haven’t had much time to get lost recently, huh?”

Freedon shrugs, gaze going back to the fire. They’ll need more logs in there soon. _‘No. It’s been busy. It only happens at night these days.’_

He nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

_‘You too?’_

“Yeah,” he says again, “a bit. A lot. Sometimes when Nami or Miles is talkin’ to me I just… can’t fucking listen. Y’know?”

Freedon nods and leans back on his hands, attention going to the skies. A few patches peek through the trees overhead – not enough to really admire, but Barnaby can see a few stars from where they’re at. It’s a nice spot.

Suddenly something starts itching at his brain. It’s an old itch, one he’s been ignoring for a long time now, but it never goes away. Not really. Not in any way that matters.

See, Freedon is an attractive man. He knows that, has known it from pretty much the minute they met. It’s not the same sort of unearthly beauty that some elvish folk pride themselves on, and it’s not the sort of homely, unique beauty that humans have. Maybe he _wouldn’t_ be as nice to look at if he were anyone else, though Barnaby can barely imagine it. To think of the face without the personality is just… it takes away from the picture Freedon makes.

And damn, is he a picture. Looking up, squinting at the stars he can see and watching the flying embers mix in with them. He’s got a nice-looking scar just under his jaw, something Barnaby himself helped heal about three missions ago, and in this light the off-color skin flickers in and out of focus.

He could name nearly every scar on this man, if he tried. Maybe not the exact dates Freedon got them, but a general timeline. The causes. The cures. There are… so many injuries on him, so many scrapes Barnaby had to burn closed or risk losing him forever. So many close calls and last words exchanged that they all sort of blur together.

There have been a few last words. Times when Freedon had been choking and about to pass out, times Barnaby was hanging on to life by a thread.

The thing is, he knows they love each other. He really, _really_ does, because they have said as much so many times in so many different ways. Those last words were never _nothing_ , they all had meaning and context and had been dripping with some awful regret that sticks in the back of his throat, because—

They love each other, but not in the same way.

To Freedon, he’s a stalwart partner. These days they are never, never apart for long, not only because Barnaby can’t stand not knowing where the other man is, but because Freedon relies on him. And it’s not just communication; Barnaby would never just jealously seclude him from the outside world by being his only interpreter. It’s everything else as well. When he forgets to eat, Barnaby drags him to the cafeteria. If he gets lost in his head it’s usually Barnaby that pulls him out. When he needs someone- someone that _knows_ what they went through, when things happened, how they happened that way and how they resolved- Barnaby is right there. He tries to always be right there.

To Barnaby, Freedon is…

Honestly he may as well be the fucking sun and moon. Barnaby loves like a flood, and that flood surrounds the idea of Freedon every hour of every day. He’s tried to bail it out, tried re-routing the flow to other things, but it never works as well and it never works for long. He is Barnaby’s best friend, the one person in a world full of people that he would mourn the most, and no one has ever had that sort of place in his heart before this.

They know each other, wholly and completely. Every blemish, every flaw just plays into the grand scheme of it, and the end portrait is this:

Freedon loves him, and Barnaby will never be able to say it back without crying.

Ain’t that a bitch.

Freedon looks at him. Caught staring again, he says the first thing that comes to mind.

“I was just thinking,” he says, pulling a subject out of his ass, “I never really got the time to ask what you thought of all this.”

_‘All what?’_ He signs, curious.

“Linan’s whole deal. The team, how we work together. All of it.”

Freedon snorts. _‘You just like to hear me talk.’_

He takes a bit to laugh before he can respond. “Maybe so!” He can admit to himself that watching Freedon’s hands even when he’s _not_ signing has become a bit of a time-sink, but the other man doesn’t have to know about that. “Just tell me what you think. I wanna know.”

He nods. It doesn’t take long for him to get his thoughts together, considering there’s always been a ton of the things just zipping around that head of his.

_‘I trust the team,’_ he starts, which is only a little surprising. _‘They’re… kind. I can tell most of them are genuinely trying to be good people, though they all have their reasons for it. Even Kilgon fits at least the bare minimum of a good person._

_‘Linan… I don’t know.’_ He signs, frowning in thought. _‘I want to trust her, but I’m not sure if I should.’_

“What do you mean?”

_‘She’s not part of the team,’_ he continues for Barnaby’s sake, _‘she’s our employer. Trusting someone in a position of power is risky.’_

That much he can understand. “I want to trust her too. If we only knew what was really going on…”

_‘She’s a friend for now,’_ Freedon nods, _‘but I’m not sure it’ll last forever.’_

“… And what she’s doing?” Barnaby asks. “The ending point, the whole ‘make the world automated and no one will suffer’?”

_‘It’s noble,’_ he signs, _‘but the more people we meet… thieves and almost-necromancers are one thing, but there was that group that was just okay with genocide for the sake of power? Knowingly, willingly killing people for profit?’_ Freedon shakes his head. _‘I think if there’s a way to make something, there’s a way to modify it. I’m not sure I want her to succeed.’_

He nods along slowly. “I… get where you’re coming from. That sort of power just shouldn’t belong to people.”

_‘But?’_

“I mean, automatons doing everything? No lack of doctors or farmers or guards for a region?” He shrugs. “No starving, or famine, or people trapped in disasters with no way out? Of course I want that for us.”

_‘Is it worth the risk, is the thing.’_

“Exactly. Is it worth the risk?” Barnaby smiles. “I want to think so.”

He gets a nod in return. _‘It’s too soon to tell right now.’_

Too soon to tell. Right, Freedon’s always been less trusting than Barnaby – as much as he wants to believe in the natural good of people, that everyone has a reason for every bad thing they’ve done, sometimes it just doesn’t end up that way. And while Barnaby tries to keep an open mind, Freedon keeps to his morals close and guards them with his life.

They’ve met some awful people over time. Sometimes it seems like Barnaby’s the only one getting burned for it.

“… What if we decide it’s not?”

_‘Then…’_ Freedon frowns, _‘then we leave.’_

“And the others?”

_‘If it gets to that point, maybe they would leave with us.’_

He hums. “They would, I think. If it really gets that bad… we know they’re good people. They’ll at least understand.”

_‘Right.’_

Barnaby looks over the flames. They’re getting pretty low – thankfully he and Joemin tackled the problem of firewood hours ago, so there’s plenty left to spare. He goes to the small pile and throws a few triangular logs in before sitting back down beside Freedon. They catch nice and slow, light crawling around the fissures in the wood before digging its way in. Nothing here but the crackle of fire and the sounds of the world.

He almost gets lost in the silence again, to be honest. He’s not completely sure he’d be able to play off his staring twice in a row, so Barnaby shakes himself out of it before he gets too obvious. Nope, no one-sided feelings here. Just two grown men enjoying the breeze.

Freedon signs something at him. He blinks.

“Uh- sorry, what was that?”

Freedon rolls his eyes. _‘Was saying, you haven’t gone on your alien rants in a while. You run out?’_

“Ha- as if!” Barnaby chuckles. “But I’m pretty damn sure you’ve heard all of ‘em by now! Haven’t exactly been worried about getting new material recently.”

_‘I haven’t heard them in a while.’_

“Huh, maybe you’re the one that likes hearing _me_ talk.”

Freedon just smiles. _‘Humor me?’_

Gods, that’s just unfair.

“You asked for it, Freedon.” If there’s anything that gets the rusty cogs of his head turning, it’s a good old conspiracy theory. The skeptic in him is already cracking its knuckles and raring to go. “Alright. Pretty sure I’ve told you half a million times by now, but it’s absolute bullshit to think there’s no life out there. I mean we haven’t even mapped out all the landmasses in the world, so it’s fuckin’ stupid to think there’s nothing on _other_ worlds just because we haven’t seen it! But you’re good on that part – far as I remember, you agree with me on that.”

_‘I do.’_

“Good, okay. So this world has a fuck ton of different races just on the two continents we know about, and a good number can be traced back to direct lineages from a certain type of animal that was either imbued with magic or just learned how to use tools a certain type of way. Magic is fuckin’ hand-wavy, it explains a lot of things, but magic isn’t- it isn’t _infinite_ , it can’t do everything, just most things. And who’s to say the magic on our world works the same on other worlds? If fuckin’ _gravity_ can be a sliding scale, why not magic?”

_‘Yes.’_

“So maybe the life on other worlds got the short end of the stick, but maybe they _didn’t_. I mean yeah, technically some planet out there has to be the ‘most advanced’ out of all of us, but I seriously doubt it’s this planet. What if we’re the ones lagging behind while everyone else found a way to travel and talk to each other no matter how far their worlds are? Which brings up the question: why aren’t they contacting us? Are we just too stupid? Are they watching us like a damn science project, studying how we develop? I say maybe! But also, what if they _have_ contacted us?”

He goes on as the hours stretch by. Freedon’s always been a decent listener – and that’s not a joke about his mutism, Barnaby is fully aware that if the other man didn’t want to listen, he simply wouldn’t. The people Freedon has ignored completely during conversations are few and far between, but every once in a while an asshole pops up with something that he can’t stand suffering through.

Not with Barnaby though. In all the time they’ve known each other, he’s always listened to him even on the stupidest of topics if only to tell Barnaby how ridiculous his ideas are.

His throat gets raw from talking. He goes through his evidence between swigs of water, but eventually his voice can’t hold anymore. Freedon grins at the first break in his tone and starts laughing when Barnaby flips him off.

He tries to continue through sign, but his hands don’t carry the same weight. Plus he’s damn tired, and he’s always had an easier time reading sign than talking in it. It takes brainpower that he’s trying to save for theorizing.

He got some new points in, actually. He’ll have to think about those later; right now he’s trying desperately to remember the sign for ‘star’.

There are hands on his. Barnaby looks up to see Freedon smiling at him again, the sort of smile that tells of laughter just under the surface.

He’s lost again. It’s all in those eyes; they’re the brightest green they could possibly be. He could swear that sometimes the color changes and shifts with how much depth they bring.

_‘Why don’t we turn in?’_

“Hm? Oh, right.” He frowns around their campsite. Sleeping arrangements. He almost forgot those were a thing – one of them has to keep watch, right?

Fuck. It’s easier to ignore when the team is together, but night watch is a post that needs to be filled. Actually, when’s the last time he had been woken for night watch?

… He can’t remember.

_“Relax, Barns,” Cran says, “I’m a Tabaxi. We don’t need much sleep anyway, and you looked like you needed it.”_

_“Go to sleep already,” Kilgon laughs, “I want to see if I can make another sand-maid without waking you up.”_

_Joemin startles. “Just going for a walk. I’ll still be on watch.”_

_“Aw, but this one is really good!” Nami holds up one of Eliah’s books, probably stolen from Cranberi’s bag. “I’ll wake someone up once I finish it.”_

_“I got it,” Kisia snorts, “just sleep.”_

How long have they all been covering his shifts?

“Those little shits,” he says to himself, a bittersweet feeling tapping at his chest. What else has he just not noticed until now? Do they really think he’s so helpless?

Freedon tilts his head. _‘What’s wrong?’_

“Thinking about sleeping shifts.”

_‘Oh,’_ he smiles again, _‘don’t worry, I’ll take the first one.’_

“See, that’s the problem.” He frowns. “I can’t remember the last time I took a shift. They’ve all been covering for me.” Barnaby narrows his gaze at the other man. “ _You’ve_ been covering for me.”

Freedon hesitates.

_‘… Do you want me to stop?’_

So he admits it. Then again… haven’t they always covered for each other this way? He shakes his head. “Just… let me have some shifts. I hate leaving them all for you to carry.”

_‘I don’t mind.’_

“Freedon.”

_‘Fine, fine.’_ He puts his hands up in surrender. _‘Do you want first watch, then?’_

“Yeah,” he says before he gives himself time to think about it, “go on to sleep. I’ll wake you when I’m about to fall over.”

_‘Maybe don’t let it get that far?’_

He rolls his eyes. “C’mon Freedon, you know me better than that. Now go to sleep.”

The taller man does his own version of grumbling, which is just like his version of lecturing expect he’s signing at the world in general rather than Barnaby. There’s a few repeated signs of ‘stubborn’ and ‘tired’ but he lays down without much more complaining and shuts his eyes.

Barnaby casually splits his attention between the dark of the surrounding forest and Freedon. The man isn’t completely asleep yet – he’s always been so on edge during the nights. It may be something carried over from wartime, but then again, maybe not. He’ll fall asleep soon, though. Neither of them can hold on for long once their eyes are shut.

He still can’t believe it’s been twenty years.

Twenty years full of rotating travel companions. Twenty years of scars earned and weapons broken. Barnaby remembers seeing Freedon on the field for the first time; he looked so horribly out of his element. More than half of their fellow soldiers couldn’t even understand him. The memory rattles his heart even now.

It was clear the man hadn’t had to work against the wilderness once in his life. Constantly getting scratches from whipping vines and bruises from every tumble into the mud. The sort of fumbling that was just plain painful to watch. Not to mention _no one_ was helping him up when he fell, no one even giving him a glance. Of course it might’ve been because the people that knew him had just gotten used to his fumbling, but Barnaby knew it had to be frustrating.

Didn’t hurt that he had a nice face, but that was just a bonus.

So Barnaby stepped up. Offered a hand out of the mud. Told him, jokingly, that he looked like a newborn fawn on an icy path and he couldn’t stand to watch anymore. He had honestly expected to be turned away.

He wasn’t.

Growing close to Freedon wasn’t something Barnaby expected. He had wanted a friend, maybe, and Freedon definitely needed the help, but then they just… kept going. Side-by-side in battle, spending the evenings next to each other around the fire. Barnaby saving his last bit of magic to close the gash in Freedon’s side, Freedon pushing through the pain to defend him as he does. He didn’t realize how deep he was until it was too late.

He’d always heard that, to boil a frog, you can’t just dump the thing into hot water. It’d just jump out. What you do is place it in cool water and slowly heat it. One day Barnaby realized he was boiling, and that was it.

And then Freedon disappeared. Missing in action. Presumably killed.

That was… the worst day of his life. There have been some low points, but never lower than that moment he heard the news and thought _‘no’_.

He’d been riding that low for twenty years.

Watching him as he dozes off, Barnaby almost can’t believe Freedon is here. Real. Solid. His chest rises and falls with breath and his fingers twitch in half-formed words. Twenty years.

There is no way he’s letting this man out of his sight again.

He blinks. It takes effort to keep his eyes open.

Blink. Freedon snores softly, more a whistle of air than actual snoring.

Blink.


	3. The Childhood AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cranberi and Nami meet a lot sooner than they should have.

“… Moving?”

Cranberi’s mother continues folding parcels into an unused travel bag, barely sparing her daughter a glance. “Yes. It’ll be in the capital, but you’ll be enrolled in classes that are the best in the country. Much better than that elvish doctor.”

The young girl holds back a flinch. That ‘elvish doctor’ is one of the only friends she has, but saying as much to mother would only set her off. “What about Coco?”

“She’ll be coming with us.”

“Isn’t… but isn’t Sojolo across the continent?” Cranberi glances to Coco’s crib where the young kitten is holding herself up against the bars, watching the proceedings. She’s only a year old. The amount of things that could happen on such a long road… her throat goes tight imagining it. They could be robbed, mugged. Kidnapped. Killed. And Coco isn’t old enough to know when a situation is dangerous.

Her paws itch with the need to pick her little sister up and hold her close.

Mother looks at her. “Would you rather she stay here?”

“No.”

“Well then, I don’t see what the problem is.”

Cranberi’s shoulders hunch. “Why Sojolo?”

“There’s a Triton there named Heron Fontum.” She shoves another parcel into the bag. “You’ll be on your best behavior when we go to meet him. We knew each other years ago, and he’s reached some considerable status while we were separated.” Mother nods to herself, looking through her collected items. “So he agreed to enroll you in a school in the private sector. Graduates from there occasionally go on to tutor royal descendants. You’ll have enough connections to set you for life either way.”

She keeps her face blank. “So we’re moving to the capital? I thought you hated cities?”

“Not when it pays for itself.” Mother smiles slightly. “Are you packed?”

“Yes Mother.”

“Are you carrying Coco’s things as well? I don’t want to have to buy another bag.”

“Yes Mother.”

“Good.” The praise falls flat. Cranberi used to live for every encouraging word, but they’ve become lackluster lately. “We leave in two days.”

Two days.

There’s no twitch of feeling on her face. “Do we need anything from town?”

“Hm.” Mother thinks on it, looking around. The room is getting sparse, but by now Cranberi can tell that it’s by design – most of their belongings are not coming with them. “We’ll need some rations. And a sling for Coco so she doesn’t slow us down.”

“I’ll get them.”

Mother nods to the lockbox Cranberi’s allowance is stored in. “Enough rations for a week should hold us through the next few stops. Get a sturdier sling than usual, we won’t be able to find a replacement on the road.”

“Yes Mother.”

Cranberi scoops out the rest of her allowance. It should be just enough. The thought of getting anything extra for herself doesn’t occur to her, Coco’s sling being the most important thing on her provided list. Maybe if it doesn’t take up all of her money, she could ask to have the new sling lined with wool? Something to keep Coco warm?

She’ll tackle the possibility after she buys the thing. For now it’s time to escape.

“Anything else, Mother?”

“No. Go on.”

She nods and walks calmly to the door, closing it softly behind her. It takes effort that she’s far too used to – as much as she wants to slam it in a fit of rage, even the slightest noise will earn a punishment and she wants to leave so bad it’s a trial to not immediately start running. She doesn’t know if Mother is watching through the windows yet.

She walks through the yard, past the garden she’s taken care of for so long. In two days it’ll be abandoned.

Cranberi reaches the treeline. She doesn’t run.

Step. Step. Step.

She reaches the marked pine tree and runs like a pack of wolves are on her tail. Her expression doesn’t so much as twitch when the tears start to fall.

\---

Alyyz seems to break at the news.

Her hands keep clutching at her apron, and it’s only because of years of friendship does Cran know that she wants to hug her instead. Alyyz is a very touchy person. When they were first getting to know each other the older woman would wave her hands around in grand gestures and flutter around Cranberi whenever she came in injured, not wanting to tell her Mother about whatever adventure resulted in her needing a doctor.

Cranberi used to go very, very still around Alyyz. They both had to learn what it meant to meet in the middle.

She’s saying something to Cran, but it all just sounds like noise. Something about a school up north that she’s not old enough to go to yet. An open favor, a spare room on offer. Cranberi just shakes her head at it all – if she can’t bring Coco, then she can’t go.

And she doesn’t want to figure out what would happen if she and her sister tried to disappear.

Alyyz doesn’t cry, but she gets very close. Probably wanting to be a good adult in front of her. It’s a nice sentiment, but Cranberi suddenly decides she’s tired of it.

So she does something she didn’t think she’d ever be ready for and throws herself into her mentor’s apron. Two warm arms wrap around her shoulders immediately, and she hears the woman begin to sob.

Good.

They stay like that for a while.

\---

She has the rations and sling. It took up the last of her money. Alyyz tried to buy the sling for her, said something about her not putting her own money into something her mother should be buying, but Cran just told her the money would be left behind anyway. It wasn’t really hers to begin with.

Mother still occasionally checks her for stolen coins. Better to not risk it.

A bug whizzes by her ear and she flinches back into her friend, Alyyz’s hands steadying her on instinct. She feels a burst of frustration breaking though the haze.

She wants to scream.

She wants it so bad that she has to stop in the middle of the road just to push it down. To look for something that will distract her.

Her eyes catch on an antique store. It’s better than nothing.

She tugs Alyyz through the door of the shop. She’s not going to buy anything – most of this junk would be useless on the road, and if she pockets anything thicker than a few scraps of paper Mother will make her leave it behind. But she looks.

She doesn’t feel curious about any of it. She’s still focusing on keeping her breathing steady and not lashing out in a fit of violence.

But something manages to catch her eye anyway.

It’s just a jewel. It’s iridescent, catching the light in just the right way to get her attention. She disregards it, but then sees that it’s sitting on a thin pamphlet nearly black with ink. She tilts her head at it and picks it up.

Alyyz says something from behind her. Cranberi squints at the crowded, faded words on the pamphlet but can’t quite make it out. Flipping it open reveals more and more writing, messy and unorganized. In the top right corner is a small drawing.

Ovular like a bug’s wing, separated into cells. It’s so tiny that she almost loses sight of it, but it’s there. Maybe it’s a crest, maybe some sort of message or sigil. She looks at it, feeling like it means something. Like it could be important.

Alyyz goes to the shopkeep. They exchange a few words, her mentor handing something to the man before returning to Cranberi’s side. She says the pamphlet it hers. A gift.

And, well. She did say she could carry a few scraps of paper.

\---

She returns home. Presents her new things to Mother for approval. Keeps her new papers tucked into her pants leg, creased and folded so it wouldn’t be noticeable.

She gets away with it.

That night, she holds Coco in her lap and pulls the pamphlet out. The folds she made have ruined some of the words.

She reads them anyway.

\---

The road is long. Cranberi is numb.

\---

Sojolo is a surprisingly beautiful place. There’s a castle looming in the distance, sitting right on the coast and looking over the entire city. Mother sneers at it a bit, saying it’s stupid to build such a large foundation on unstable ground and that it would fall one day, but Cranberi thinks it’s neat. It makes a wonderful picture.

Coco is older now. Old enough to be able to walk on her own for a few minutes at a time. Mother keeps both girls close, urging them on when they get too slow. They eventually reach an inn that she can haggle a room for. She only gets one – a bed for her, and a bed for Cranberi and Coco to share. They don’t need any more.

In the morning Mother shoves a map at her and tells her to familiarize herself. This is their new hunting ground, after all. Their new territory. She has to know it better than she knows herself. Cranberi doesn’t think that’s a difficult task.

So she leaves.

It takes two full days. Cranberi sleeps on a random rooftop, knowing that she wouldn’t be let into Mother’s inn room until her task is done, but eventually she gets to the last place on her map.

The coast.

She’d been saving it. The summer air is warm and the waves violently crash against the rocks below. It’s just as soothing as she thought it’d be. She sits on the cliff’s edge and watches the current go in and out, water turning white as it gets closer.

This is definitely a land of Tritons, she thinks. She didn’t see a single Tabaxi in the entire city – at least back in Felu there had been one or two. Everyone that’s not a Triton here is a tourist or travelling merchant, so she and Coco are going to be the odd ones out. That’s fine, though. She’s used to it.

Cranberi’s tired.

Maybe that’s why she doesn’t hear the person coming from behind her.

“Whoa!” Someone says, and Cranberi’s fur goes straight up in surprise. “What are you?”

She turns. There’s a Triton looking at her from a few feet back, shoulder-length pink hair flicking in the breeze. Cranberi glares at them – she’s not really sure how fashions work on this side of the country, so she can’t even say if they’re a boy or girl. It doesn’t really matter.

“’m a Tabaxi.” She whips her tail at the Triton dismissively.

They don’t take the hint. “Cool! I’ve never seen a Tabaxi, and I’ve lived here my whole life.”

Oh, great. They’re probably some noble’s kid then, if they’ve never lived anywhere but the capital. Cranberi hates herself for considering making nice with this random child to please her Mother. They can’t be more than eleven years old to Cranberi’s thirteen – she’s not dragging them into her life just to make that woman happy.

It feels odd to think of her Mother as ‘that woman’. It feels… honest. She doesn’t like it.

“Are you visiting? Did you move here?”

“No. And yes.”

“No and- oh! So you _did_ move here!” They come closer. “How long ago was that?”

“Two days.”

“You’re _new_ new!”

Cranberi sighs. She reminds herself again that this is an actual child talking to her. She cannot curse and yell until they run away. It’s impolite. “Yes.”

“You don’t talk much, huh?” They bridge the rest of the gap and plop down next to her, seemingly ignoring how far she leans away. “That’s okay! I can talk for both of us. What’s your name?”

Do not yell. Do not yell. “Cranberi. Yours?”

“Oh, I’m… Nami.” They nod to themselves. “Nami! It’s a real pretty name, right?”

“Sure.”

They wilt a little. “You don’t think so?”

Cranberi closes her eyes. _This fucking child- she’s going to commit violence._ “It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s your name. If you don’t like it, then change it.”

“Wh- really?”

“Why not?”

Nami goes quiet for a long few seconds. “… Yeah. Why not?” They look out at the sea, fins relaxing and thinning as they think. Eventually they nod to themselves. “My name’s Nami. I like it, so I’ll keep it.”

“… It’s very pretty.”

Nami grins, and Cranberi sees a face full of teeth sharp enough to lose a finger on. “Right?!”

\---

“Cranberi,” Mother greets when she finally, finally gets back to the inn. Her things aren’t even unpacked yet. “Good. We’re meeting Heron tonight, and I want you on your best behavior. Try to keep Coco in line.”

“Yes Mother.”

\---

Nami’s at the rocks again the next time Cranberi has a free moment. After the few hours they had spent chatting nearly a week ago now, she feels comfortable enough to sit next to the Triton without saying anything.

Nami flinches out of their position, but relaxes into a sharp smile when they see that it’s her. “Cranberi!”

“Hey.”

“Hi!” They sit back, putting their weight on their hands and tail. “I haven’t seen you! Where’d you go?”

“I had errands. Work. I was taking care of my sister too.”

“You work?”

Cran shrugs. “I don’t get paid for it, but yeah. I work.”

Nami’s eyebrows furrow. “Why wouldn’t they pay you?”

“Cause ‘they’ are my Mother.”

“You don’t get an allowance or anything?”

“Not anymore.” Not since Mother found out that she spent the last of it lining Coco’s sling with insulation instead of buying more rations. It was a stupid mistake. One she should’ve taken into account, but didn’t. Now she gets no money. “But it’s fine. She’s my Mother.”

Nami hums. Hums some more. “I could share some of my allowance with you?”

Cran frowns at them. “Why? I don’t need to buy anything.”

“In case you want something!”

“What would I even want?”

Nami bounces. “Oh, we could get you some cards for card games, or new clothes…? Or one of those little toys that you can play with when you don’t have anything to do- um, what are those called?”

“… Fidget toys?”

“Yeah, those!”

“But I don’t need any of that?”

They make a frustrated noise. “It doesn’t matter if you _need_ them! It’s about _wanting_ them.”

“I don’t want any of that, then.”

They frown at her. She looks away, pulling on a blank face. Nami sighs. “Okay, then what would you want? There’s so many things!”

She looks down at the waves.

“… How do I know if I want something?”

“Um… if you’d feel excited if someone gave it to you, I guess?”

A gift. Cranberi remembers her last gift from Alyyz, still sitting folded in her pocket. She’s managed to work through the first page now – it’s hard to keep track of where she left off when she can’t keep notes anywhere. Still, she thinks she’d be excited to get another gift like that.

Yeah. That’s something she could want. “Do you know if there’s a library near here?”

There is.

They meet there the next day. Nami buys her a library card, and Cranberi decides she’d die for this random kid she met on the rocks.

\---

“The semester starts in two weeks. You’re responsible for knowing what books you need and where to buy them. When you’re done, you’ll give whatever’s left of this money back to me. Understood?”

“Yes Mother.”

\---

There’s someone new at the rocks today. Cranberi watches them from the shadows of a nearby building, boiling with admittedly misdirected rage. It’s not their fault that they’re taking her and Nami’s spot. She can just wait for them to leave.

Still. She wants to chase them away. That’s _her_ spot. Hers and Nami’s.

But they don’t leave. At least, they don’t leave before Nami gets there. Cranberi sees the younger Triton walk into view and hesitate at the sight of this random person in their spot. She’s already deciding to chase after her friend as they leave when Nami… just keeps walking. They walk all the way to the new person and begin talking to them.

Her eyes narrow. She steps out from the shadows and makes her way over.

The new person spots her before Nami does. They have blue skin and their hair is somewhere between pink and purple – so close to Nami’s shade. But this person is much taller than her friend even if they’re only a little taller than Cranberi herself.

She could take them. She’s already thought of two ways to fling them down the cliff when Nami turns to greet her.

They look nervous. Cranberi speeds up.

“This is Cranberi!” Nami says the moment she’s close enough. “She’s a friend!”

The older Triton looks her over. “Uh-huh.”

Nami elbows her. It occurs to Cranberi that, besides acts of unspeakable violence, she had absolutely no plan for coming over here. “Uh. Nice to meet you? Who are you.”

The stranger raises an eyebrow, but Cranberi is already cringing back. _Who are you_ , nice one Cran, no wonder Mother never stops trying to drill manners into her thick head.

“I’m Gal.” The stranger says.

And he goes quiet for a second, like he’s waiting for something. Cranberi doesn’t get it.

“This brat’s older brother?”

Cranberi looks at her friend. “You have a brother?”

Nami sputters a laugh. “You didn’t know?”

“How would I know that if you’ve never told me.”

“I thought your big sister instincts would sniff it out.”

“I’m not a hunting dog!”

Gal, Nami’s _older brother, apparently,_ just rolls his eyes at the both of them. For some reason he’s smiling and it puts Cranberi on edge. “Quit it, both of you. Remember to come home before nightfall, got it, guppy?”

Nami pouts. “Yes Gill.”

“Gill?”

“It’s my favorite nickname,” Nami says to her, grinning. “He hates it.”

Gal just scoffs and leaves. “Home before nightfall!”

“Okay!”

Huh. He didn’t even yell at them.

Maybe Nami’s family is okay. Maybe.

\---

“It’s a shame the Precip family all have private tutors,” Mother sighs. “They have a son around your age. Getting close to them would make things that much easier.”

Cranberi doesn’t say anything.

\---

Nami’s quiet one day, until they’re not. “… I think I’m a girl.”

Cranberi blinks at her. “You think?”

“Yeah.” She tucks her head against her knees. “Does that make me weird?”

“Nah,” she says, feeling the sudden urge to get her claws into some transphobes. “It just makes you a girl.”

\---

The news comes out that the prince is transgender. Cranberi’s private school is full of transphobes, as it turns out. She gets into fights, catches so many brats on her claws, and doesn’t regret a single second even when the woman that should be her mother screams at her for ruining so many chances. Whenever someone says shit in her direction, she thinks of Nami.

She wonders if being willing to die for someone is the same as being willing to kill for them. She wonders it even with a new loudmouth rich kid is dragging himself away from her claws, screaming for a teacher.

Cranberi decides it doesn’t matter. She’d do both.

\---

Coco’s old enough to go around the city on her own now, according to that woman. Cranberi lets her sister walk a block away before coming out of a nearby alley to hold her hand. Coco beams through her tears. “Can I meet your friend?”

Cranberi takes her to their spot.

Coco stares out at the horizon, enthralled. The push and pull of the waves is just as soothing as ever, and her tears are dried in no time. She starts talking about the sea gods and goddesses of the region, how the stories go on about the land and seas constantly stealing from each other. Cranberi holds her sister in her lap and listens until Nami gets there.

Just as she thought, the two girls immediately love each other. With one sister babbling on her lap and another leaning against her side, Cranberi feels more at peace than she has in years.

\---

“I don’t know what to do with you anymore,” the woman hisses. “You’ve ruined every single chance I gave you, for what? Some princess that doesn’t even know you exist? You realize you’ll never be able to show your face in polite society now?”

“I don’t care.”

“Excuse me?”

“I. Don’t. Care.”

\---

She doesn’t tell Nami.

Nami finds out anyway.

It’s a stupid slip that gives it away. Something about Cranberi not having a lamp to read by anymore, having to rely on the sun instead. The way she said it made Nami suspicious, though, and somehow she makes it so Cranberi’s spilling the entire story within minutes.

And she’s livid. Cranberi’s best and closest friend, her veritable sister, is gnashing her teeth like she wants them in her— in _that_ _woman’s_ throat.

She tells Cranberi to stay put and then runs off. Cran doesn’t have the energy to stop her and has nowhere else to be.

It takes around three hours for Nami to come back. It’s nearly sunset, but she’s dragging the now-familiar form of Gal along with her. Cranberi looks up at them both from her seat on the cliff, too tired to do much else.

Gal crouches down to eye level. “Nami tells me you’re in a rough spot.”

She looks away. After a moment of silence, she nods.

“You can’t come with us without stirring up some sort of news,” Gal says, “but I can get you an apartment until you can take care of yourself. Alright?”

“I can take care of myself.”

He frowns. “How old are you now, Cranberi?”

“… Sixteen.”

Apparently that was the wrong answer. Gal buys her an inn room for the night, and she has an apartment she didn’t pay for the next day.

\---

She can finally take notes on the pamphlet, so she does so with a desperation she’s never really felt before. After so long trying to memorize the pages, she can finally get the words down as something she can read.

It’s about a goddess named Circidan. A goddess of luck.

Cranberi looks around her gifted apartment. Thinks of Nami, of how if she hadn’t stopped to rest that day on the rocks, they never would have met.

Luck. It was all luck that led her here, in her own bed, with her own journal filled with notes from an acolyte long dead.

Circidan’s symbol stays in her mind. She feels grateful.

\---

“If you could learn anything,” Nami asks her, “what would you do?”

Cranberi thinks on it.

“I think I’d be a doctor,” she says, remembering Alyyz’s promise to train her, hire her, help her open a clinic somewhere far away from her hometown.

She thinks about how angry she’d been until now, how every thought had been tinged with rage and how every interaction, save for the ones with her people, was ten seconds away from a fight.

“It’d be nice to heal people for a change.”

\---

They’re sisters now, but Nami has always had and will always have her own life. Cranberi never really wanted to get involved in her daily routine, only mourning the fact that they couldn’t have gone to school together for the brief period she had been allowed on school grounds. Maybe she wouldn’t have gotten in so many fights.

She’d always just assumed that Nami was busy doing whatever rich people did during the day. Learning how to run a business and suck up to the royal family, etcetera.

So when Nami comes to her for help with studying, Cranberi doesn’t think much of it.

The subject is History, something Cran never had an interest for. She tells Nami as much, but she says she has an easier time focusing at Cran’s apartment anyway so she can still study. The older girl rolls her eyes and starts preparing a snack.

When she comes back to the living room, Nami is tense. “What’s up?”

“… This textbook is outdated.” She frowns. “Why would they give me an old textbook?”

Cranberi tilts her head at it. “How do you know?”

“It still has the _prince’s_ name here.”

“Ah.” Cranberi walks to her room and searches around her desk, eventually coming up with her prize. She totes it back to where Nami’s scowling at her textbook and presents it to her. “Here. It’s white-out tape – we can just stick it on and write… I don’t know, what name does she use?”

Nami relaxes. For some reason, she starts giggling. “Thank you.”

“Sure.”

They tape over every deadname they see. Nami replaces all of them with her own name, and Cranberi laughs at the idea of Nami being the princess.

\---

“That sort of looks like Gal.”

“That _is_ Gal, Cranberi.”

“Wh- no that’s the prince.”

“Cranberi. What’s the prince’s name?”

“… I don’t know?”

“It’s Gal.”

“That’s weird.”

“They’re the same person!”

“Gal doesn’t have a royal bone in his body. Besides, that’d make _you_ the princess!”

“… Cranberi.”

“Hm?”

“I _am_ the princess.”

“… When you say ‘princess’—"

\---

Cranberi isn’t invited to any balls. Doesn’t bear witness to any accords, doesn’t sign any regulations into action. She takes her former family’s words to heart and never shows her face in polite society.

Thankfully, Nami doesn’t count.

\---

Sojolo and it’s rivalling kingdom have agreed to a truce, and Cranberi doesn’t like it. She wouldn’t normally care one bit outside of polite interest; Nami’s been venting to her about this conflict for months now, but Nami isn’t a successor to the throne until Gal and her sister Vaihere are out of the picture, so her life is in less danger.

At least, that’s what she _thought_.

But Nami’s life is exactly what’s been offered. A marriage between her and the other kingdom’s prince. She would have to move from the city she’s lived her whole life in for a man she’s never met.

Actually, Cranberi thinks, staring out at the night through her window, they’re supposed to be meeting each other soon.

It drives her up a wall. She’s never felt the need to be in the castle more in her life. Every time she thinks she’s calmed down, another spike of rage bowls her over and she starts pacing around her (now honestly paid for) living room. She spends all her spare time wondering what the next step is: does she follow Nami to her new home in Finessa, or does she stay in Sojolo to keep an eye on Coco? Who is more at risk? Who would need her more?

She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know what she’s going to do. Choosing between her two sisters isn’t something she ever thought would happen.

She prays. Circidan’s symbol burns in the back of her mind and a feeling, just a feeling, makes itself known.

Cranberi lets herself still for a moment. Mourning. Hopefully Coco will forgive her one day.

She begins packing. When all her things are together, she holds her three most important possessions in her hands.

The pamphlet. The journal. The library card.

She decides there’s one more thing to do.

She takes the long walk to her old house. The light in Coco’s room in on, and she knocks softly on the windowpane. It slides open after a moment.

Her little sister’s face peeks out. They only see each other at night these days, Cranberi having been barred from her former family’s territory. She signs a hello that Coco delights in returning.

 _‘I have something for you’_ Cranberi signs, and Coco lights up and makes grabby paws.

She laughs quietly and pulls out her journal.

 _‘I found a goddess I don’t think you heard of,’_ she signs to her now-gobsmacked little sister. _‘This is what I could get on her.’_

Coco looks over the journal. It has Circidan’s symbol painted on the front cover.

She wilts. Begins to cry. _‘Are you leaving?’_

Weak, Cranberi rubs her thumb along her sister’s cheek. _‘Not forever.’_

Coco nods and hold the journal to her chest.

\---

When she gets back to the apartment, it’s already full.

Cranberi’s never actually met Vaihere before now. She didn’t think their first meeting would be in tears.

“You need to take her,” the older Triton says, shoving her already-packed bag at her. “You’re the only one that can. The only one we can trust with this.”

Gal puts a hand on her shoulder. She’s taller than him now. “You don’t have to, but please.”

Nami sits silently on the couch, her long hair now braided and bound when just yesterday she was wearing it freely.

There’s really only one answer Cranberi can give.

\---

They travel. Cranberi teaches Nami what she can, and Nami learns to cover her weak spots. She fights while Nami talks, and it gets them as far as Felu.

It’s weird to be back. They visit Cranberi’s hometown. Nami meets Alyyz and loves her immediately, and Cran gets a few weeks of medic training before the two girls begin getting twitchy again. Staying in one place too long is dangerous.

Cran gets a new journal along the way and transcribes her pamphlet again. Circidan’s symbol is in the back of her mind nearly every day now.

It doesn’t mean anything until it does.

\---

Cranberi doesn’t care about the bounty hunter’s life, but Nami doesn’t want him to die.

Really, it’s his own fault for trying to trap Nami first when Cranberi was within slashing distance.

But he’s Triton, and from Sojolo, and Nami’s a bleeding heart at the best of times. Thankfully he’d passed out around thirty seconds ago, so Cranberi doesn’t have to sit through whatever sob story he has cooked up to make them feel guilty for escaping. She kneels down and starts removing his armor to get a better look at the injury.

Circidan’s symbol, now a permanent fixture in her head, _burns_.

Burns her mind. Burns her neck. Burns her arm and her hand.

Burns the wound closed.

After a few seconds of shock, Cranberi’s eyes burn entirely on their own.

\---

They find the letter caught in a bramble by the side of the road. Nami picks it up first out of curiosity, then shows it to Cranberi.

Together, they decide to take a chance.

\---

“My name’s Nami!”

“Cranberi.” She nods to the surrounding crowd. “We’re sisters, so we’ll be in the same group, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Sisters?” A halfling man says, very obviously questioning their parentage. Cranberi and Nami both give him a glare, one far more threatening than the other.

“Sisters.”

And that’s that.


End file.
